Catharsis
by eloquentfever
Summary: Blaine's perspective and goes from 2x06 to current events. Blaine Anderson's real life: his parents died. In the Sadie Hawkins Dance, his boyfriend also died and now, Kurt's sitting beside him, so he lies. The first lie is okay, but soon, his life becomes a lie and he loses himself in it until the past catches up with him. Blangst. Klaine.
1. Chapter 1

_This thing…will have really long chapters so I won't update frequently and it's like a huge, huge character study from Blaine and it shall extend all the way to 4x04. Okay, hold your hats on. This is long and I wrote this just because I wanted Blangst. Slightly inspired by **The Machinist**, but I didn't copy/paste the plotline. Actually, barely. Not meant to offend anyone or any character. If there is character bashing, it isn't intentional. Anyway, **warnings for language, mentions of sex, extreme religious ideals by Blaine, and a horrible amount of self-loathing. **_

* * *

Chapter 1

* * *

Blaine's head pounded. The world was made of only fogginess and the only thing he wanted to do was sleep at the pulsing gnawing pain that managed to envelope him. His body felt strained, as if he'd been boxing for three consecutive hours. His Father always told him how mad it was. _You know what you can do instead of punching something for three hours? You can go down and confront 'em if you want_. He had managed through a measured two-hundred-and-thirty calorie bowl of cereal before he had said that enough was enough. He'd managed to go through the whole day surviving on nothing more than sugar-free hot chocolate, water and tea. He hoped that he wouldn't quite feel so bad when he'd be transferred to Dalton, a school that his Father had his heart set on. His nose was stuffy and he had no energy to move. Dalton had agreed to take Blaine in but that was only until next year and then he'd have to repeat the year he'd missed out on.

_"It's insane," his Father, Joseph, had said. "They're gonna let the kid repeat the year in another school because he got beat up by some bastards." _

_"It's insane." His Mother, Maria, had nodded towards him. "Completely insane," she added on again._

_Blaine had stopped eating the sticky revolting rice. The hospital food tasted like ashes in his mouth, and somehow also like plastic. The vegetables had lost all of their taste and the texture annoyed him. The carrots were so lean Blaine wondered if he would ever be able to eat the real proper thing ever again. _

_"Blaine, love, I'm sorry."_

_Blaine hadn't said anything. "I'm fine," he said after a while and then realised that the silence was better than the lie his parents can read around. _

_"He's just upset about the food," Maria finally said. "Aren't you dear?"_

_"Yeah," Blaine said, as he took another bite of the rice. He was somehow trying to convince himself that it really was the rice. "The rice is horrible."_

_"Mmmm," Joseph murmured under his breath and then cleared his throat. "Should get you something proper from the cafeteria, okay?"_

_Joseph left, and Blaine was staring down at the broth-based soup that smelled like they'd drowned a salt shaker in it. "I don't care about rice, Momma," Blaine said._

_"Must be the carrots." The woman tried to convince herself so._

_"Yeah," Blaine said, as he pushed around the rice with his fork. "Must be." _

He had just gotten back from the hospital a week ago. He had been there for a little under a month and then he was told he had to repeat that year. His stomach felt queasy and he was nauseated. He did not want to repeat an entire year of Hell in any other school. He just wanted to curl up in a hole and die. _High school, _his Dad laughed, _like they made it ten times worse than it was before and chucked kids in em for nothing. _

Blaine had been pummelled to practical death on the hands of the jocks of his older school. Nobody did anything_. It's not that nobody couldn't do anything, _Blaine had explained, _it's that they didn't want to bother_. Stephen had not only gotten hurt on that night in the Sadie Hawkins dance – he had _died_.

_"Steph, Steph, stay awake, please." Blaine had demanded from him. Blaine himself was fighting to stay unconscious._

_Stephen laughed. Stephen was just so different from everyone else. Blaine stared at the splatter of freckles on his nose. "Shouldn't call me Steph. Sound like a fucking girl."_

_Blaine nodded his head. Stephen's hand had went to Blaine's full head of hair, and smiled as he ran his hand through it. "Blood. New hair gel."_

_"Can you stay serious for just one second?" Blaine finally said, annoyed and frustrated. "Ambulance is gonna get here quick. I called. I—"_

_"Why so serious, Blainey? Life's a laugh." He coughed, splatters of blood coating his mouth. "I fucking hate that bowtie. I hate all of your bowties. You look like you're from the era of—"he coughed again, and Stephen pressed his head against Blaine's arm. _

_Blaine's eyes filled. "Stephen, don't die."_

_"I'm not gonna die, babe." Stephen laughed again but it meant more blood. "That's one way to shut me up. Shit. I fucking hate blood."_

_Blaine felt Stephen's left hand clutch his arm. "Hey, Blaine? Sort of funny but I feel like I'm gonna…"_

_Blaine gripped tightly onto Stephen's wrist with the hand that was around his arm, and Blaine can feel Stephen's pulse, weaker by the minute. "Don't you dare," Blaine finally said, voice shaky. "You said you wouldn't."_

_"Also promised to take you out to dinner tonight after, but I guess that's not happening either." Stephen shook his head. "Blaine, damn you."_

_"This is my fault. I took you here. I took you here and now, you're dying because of me." Blaine shakily said, as he tried to pull Stephen away from the entrance. The music made Blaine feel nauseated, mostly because how could they play music and not care? How could they leave Stephen here? Blaine's BlackBerry dug into his flashy cobalt blue pants and all he could do was stare at Stephen._

_"Dammit, Blaine. You're so damned melodramatic. I'm fine," Stephen said. He didn't feel like he can die from being beaten. _

_"Stay awake."_

_"You sound like my Mom."_

_"Steph."_

_"Blainey."_

_"Don't call me Blainey."_

_"Don't call me Steph." Stephen coughed again and this landed blood on Blaine too. Blaine would never forget the feel of the cold blood sliding from his shirt, or how Stephen was so pale. _

_"You're really pale, Steph," Blaine said, voice weak. _

_"Do I look like that boy you stare at when we're getting coffee? Whaz his name? Kurt? Kurt…something. Pummel?"_

_"Hummel," Blaine corrected. "Kurt Hummel."_

_"Been in a love affair with him?"_

_"I know his name."_

_"He's cute."_

_"Don't touch him, Steph."_

"Why, Blainey? He yours? Always knew you were turned off by freckles." Stephen shut his eyes. "I'm just gonna take a little nap…"

"STEPHEN, WAKE UP!" Blaine frantically yelled, shaking him. This caused Stephen's eyes to snap open.

_"I'm awake, jeez. I'm just tired is all." Stephen shut his eyes again and his hand fell from Blaine's arm. When the sirens were heard about a few minutes later, Blaine had shaken Stephen awake._

_"Come on. We have to go."_

_Blaine shook Stephen over and over, more and more violently by the minute. "Stephen, don't you dare give me a fucking premature heart attack! Wake up!"_

_Blaine felt tears fill his eyes. "Wake up, Steph. Wake up. Please…please…wake up. I'll…I'll…STEPHEN! STEPHEN WAKE UP!"_

_The taller male was unresponsive. By the time they'd taken him away, Blaine felt like something was slipping away from him. Blaine ran his hand and felt the blood matting his hair. Suddenly, it all felt real. Blaine suddenly felt like he really was going to throw up. When he was being pulled as well, his arm's incentive was to reach out for Stephen. He would never forget how Stephen's skin felt like – cold, rubbery, and it made him cry. It made him cry as hard as he'd ever cried before. _

_One of them was checking on Stephen. "Time of death. 9:42."_

_Blaine always remembered that time. It was the time where he laid in bed, staring at the wall, not knowing what to do. Lost. It was the time that his heart felt like it was made out of metal and sunk into his chest. Blaine didn't know that then, but he'd known even then that he would never see those numbers the same way again. Blaine to reach for Stephen again but he passed out before his hand had touched that dead skin again. That was the last time Blaine Anderson ever touched Stephen Blake. _

Stephen was such a strange person. When Blaine had told Stephen that he was strange, the taller male's only quip was _thanks. I'm taking it as a good thing. You have crazy hair—like it's all curly and in ringlets. I fucking love it. _Blaine had been hospitalised for the attack in Sadie Hawkins and that was the first time he made a newspaper. Blaine realised how badly he hated those ringlets, that curly hair they grabbed on when they forced him to give him a blowjob. He had lost so much of his coursework in ninth grade and he was not going back there. He was petrified. He still remembered days of his Father screaming at the board for letting something like this happened but nobody ever opened it up as a case back then. Blaine always thought it was because he was vile.

_"You ain't vile, Blaine," his Father assured him. "People just don't like different. They think it's bad."_

_Blaine stared at the wall. "Different didn't kill Stephen, Dad." He let out a painful chuckle as hot tears filled his eyes. "I did." _

His older school was just adjacent to a Catholic religious school. They all told him that he was disgusting, that he brought it on himself—Blaine can remember clearly when he knew he was gay. A boy said he wanted to try out kissing so he kissed a girl named Angel and said she had nice lips. Blaine kissed Angel and thought her lips were gross and it was weird feeling her against him like that. It was just weird.

_"I didn't like it." Blaine mumbled to a blonde boy. "I think I'm weird now. A bad weird." He used to be a good weird because he read a lot of books and knew words and things people didn't know. That was a good weird, but not liking kissing Angel was weird because all the other boys did. _

_Blondie laughed. "Stephen."_

"Blaine." The young eight year old didn't quite understand. "Steph, can I kiss you?"

_"It's Stephen. Steph is the name of that girl Stephanie," he said, but then nodded. "Sure, Blainey."_

_Blaine looked at Stephen in distaste as he leaned upwards on his tip-toes to kiss Stephen. Even back then, he was too short. Stephen pulled back and didn't say anything about it. "Your lips taste better than Angel's," Blaine finally said. "Your lips taste really good and I'm kinda scared."_

_"What? Why?" Stephen asked._

_"Because they're not supposed to," Blaine wanted to cry. _

_He left the playground without a single sound. Blaine could remember not wanting dinner even though it was really yummy mashed potatoes with a lot of delicious butter and smelled really fresh. Blaine just wanted to go to bed and in bed, he just cried. He cried because he was weird – a bad kinda weird. He was scared. Blaine curled up in his bed. "Please, don't let me like boys. I don't want to like boys. I don't wanna be gay. I don't wanna. Please." _

It was so stupid to bring a boy to the dance, but Stephen made Blaine feel happy. He'd always made Blaine feel happy. He wanted to be able to do normal things, like go to dances with boys he liked and dance with them. He wanted to kiss boys in the rain, wear nice rings and point in the crowd and say _that's my boyfriend. I love him_. Stephen brought Blaine really nice locally grown roses and told them he needed to muster up the courage against these people. Courage ran away when Blaine was being beaten senselessly by the hands of jocks he barely knew the names of.

A few months ago, they'd finally filed it as a hate crime. Blaine didn't care about what happened to them – he barely knew them, but he knew they will be punished and that was enough for him. In the small portion of Blaine's mind, all he could repeat in his mind was how he had deserved all of it. _You killed him. You killed him. It was your fault. You wanted him to go to that fucking dance with you! _Stephen had died _because of him_ that night. Blaine would never see that beautiful powerful jaw again, or run his fingers against Stephen's blonde hair. He would never kiss those really pink lips again or stare into those beautiful brown eyes. Stephen was his first everything, first kiss, first dance, first boyfriend, first fuck, first everything and now, he was the first person that Blaine ever witnessed dying. Blaine had never known anyone to die but the process of mourning was painful. It was horrible that Blaine was scheduled for surgery during Stephen's funeral. That he didn't even have that ability to see Stephen's sending off. _It's better this way, _he told himself. _Stephen's family wouldn't have wanted me to see me anyway. I'm the reason he's dead. No reason to make them even more depressed than they are._

The first thing Blaine had done when he'd been discharged was go to Stephen's grave. Blaine felt dissociated and out of bounds. He had forgotten how he'd gotten there, or if it was really Stephen's body lowered into the ground, in that coffin that he could not see. Blaine wanted answers as he had many questions but he'd come to realise that not everything had an answer. _Actually, kid, _his Father started, _you'll realise that you'll live, you'll learn but you'll always have more questions than answers and sometimes, that's not a bad thing, alright?_

Sometimes, Blaine still remembered things about Stephen, things that he suddenly paid more attention to. He had been so in love with him that he hadn't realised the littler things about him. Blaine was an artist. He drew. He sketched so much, but his last drawing would be one of Stephen, incomplete. Blaine could never bring himself to finish it, and then he couldn't bring himself to look back into that sketchbook. Blaine had a habit of drawing people, their faces, people he didn't really know, and people he did. He had a habit of giving himself timings to finish certain pictures. The last sketch he had ever done was that incomplete one of Stephen. He did not draw again, because he couldn't leave a project incomplete and whenever he thought of Stephen and finishing that picture, he just curled up into his small bed and thought: maybe one day. The thing was that 'one day' never came.

At dinner, his Mother had shoved him a plate of greasy, oily, cheesy filled-to-the-brim spaghetti. He had finished halfway before he started coughing and pieces of meat felt the need to dislodge itself from Blaine's throat. Blaine hadn't eaten or touched meat since then.

_"Do you know what a vegetarian is?" Stephen had told him. "People who don't eat meat. Pretty much a death sentence I think. I can't live without flirting with this steak right here, you know? It's pretty much begging me to eat it."_

_"Yeah," Blaine rolled his eyes. "The dead carcass that was slayed for you to eat…yup. It's begging you to eat it." _

_"Don't you turn _vegetarian_ on me now, Blaine. You'll lose ten pounds and die." _

Ten pounds. Blaine laughed. Ten pounds was nothing compared to the rapid weight loss he'd gone through now. Blaine can barely recognise the boy in the mirror that was fifty pounds thinner than he was before, with his sunken eyes, tired, drawn-out, exhausted and most of all, all of the cuts marring his body, all of the scars. He was so pale, and it honestly scared him. He used to be one-sixty-five, and now he was barely one-ten-five on his scale and it scared the hell out of him. He was five-foot-six by then, and he honestly thought he looked sick. By the time that he had gone to Dalton, he had gained twenty pounds, looked a little better and so many of his cuts were healed into scars by then.

That was also when he had first gelled his hair.

"_I'm taking it as a good thing. You have crazy hair—like it's all curly and in ringlets. I fucking love it." _

Blaine decided it was just because it looked horrible ungelled with the uniform, that he'd look more put-together. Those were all lies he told himself. He just didn't want to see his hair ungelled. It was all Stephen and people grabbing at it and forcing him to give them a blowjob. He had rarely ever assumed his hair without bountiful mounds of gel now. Blaine was unrecognisable in the mirror.

"Blaine Anderson?" the English teacher called Blaine out.

In these Dalton halls, he was just another somebody with just another normal story. His blazer made him fit in. His hair was hidden behind mounds of gel and his eyes glittered in the light but all of it was so subtle. He just fit. It was like a puzzle piece. Nobody cared how it looked like alone, but when put together, there was that image.

She told him to come into his room. Jeff made 'oohs' and 'ahhs', trying to figure out what Dapper Blainey did to piss off the most stern teacher. It was also the day the figured out that Amy was Blaine's aunt. They talked a little sometimes, sometimes about assignments and how comfortable he was at this school. "_I have to know how comfortable you are in this school because if you're not comfortable, I'll do things in my power to make you feel comfortable, so Blaine, are you comfortable?"_ Blaine hated the word _comfortable_ right now, considering how many times he'd heard it that week.

When she called him in the middle of his second week, it was to tell him that his parents were dead.

Blaine didn't know how to react. He was too shocked to cry.

He stared at the cookies she had for him and the tea he was drinking tasted bitter. He stared back at her, trying to fabricate the idea of his parents being dead. It seemed so impossible. They were alive, healthy and fine just over a few hours ago. It seemed like an impossible thing. "Okay." That was all he could say. It was definitely not okay, but he had no ability to react.

Blaine sunk into his chair and stared at her with soft eyes. "Blaine, do you need me to call one of your friends to pick you up?"

Blaine shook his head and with a soft voice that was devoid of any emotion, "No." He felt like a rat trapped into a maze and everything cashed onto him.

She nodded. "You have to live with me now, Blaine. You're young and I'm paying for your tuition. You're staying here with me at Dalton. Do you have your car keys?"

Blaine had pulled out his car keys to his Buick and thrown it towards her. The woman caught it, put the keys into a drawer and shut the drawer with her own key, pocketing it. "I'm sorry, Blaine, but when you want to go out – even for coffee, you come to me and tell me where to go. I can't bear to lose you. You're sitting here in the dorms with Nicholas and Jeffery. I'm sure you don't mind that and I'm sure they don't mind your sexuality."

Blaine stared at her for a moment. He didn't want to say that his parents were dead, because saying it would be admitting it was really happening so he just stared at the cookies. "Are those maple?" he asked.

"Honey maple, yes," it took Amy a while to realise that at Blaine's house, these were a staple in his house. Blaine stared at the cookies for a long time and Amy coughed. "Yes…I…I'll let someone take you to your dorms."

Blaine looked up at her with lost eyes. "Okay." He said again, but dammit, it was _not_ okay. Blaine, it was _not_ okay.

Blaine stumbled out of the doorway, feeling physically sick. He was naked without his car keys. He tightened his Dalton scarf around his neck, wondering if he can choke too. He stared down at the ground and he felt like his loafers were digging into his feet. He was suddenly aware of different scents in the air – cedarwood and the sickening scent of latte mixing in the air.

"You look like shit," Thad muttered.

"Blaine? Earth to Blaine?" Jeff tried to pull Blaine out of his reverie. "What happened?"

_My parents are dead._

And when Blaine finally _really_ realised it, he threw up all over Jeff's new loafers.

* * *

Blaine had pretty much been sinking in his own misery. He didn't want to do _Teenage Dream. _He did not feel like singing. He wanted to throw up into Thad's pants half the time. He did not look it. He wore his hair gel religiously, his clothes were always prim-and-proper because if his aunt mentioned a therapist again, Blaine was sure he'd scream. Or sing. Or both. He'd honestly been toying with the sheet music for _Teenage Dream_ before the bell rang, signalling him to leave the classrooms.

He had been trying to leave when –

"Hi, I'm new here. Can I ask you a question?"

Blaine turned around to stare at that boy. Blaine knew _that_ boy. Stephen mentioned him when he was dying. _That_ boy that always ordered non-fat mochas and lattes when he was upset. _That_ boy that had a high-pitched voice. Somehow, just seeing him made Blaine feel comfortable, like he had stopped the moment when Stephen was just lying against the grass, dying. "My name is Blaine," he finally said.

"Kurt," that boy. It had to be _that_ boy. "So, what exactly is going on?"

Blaine smiled now, suddenly finding enthusiasm. He could barely tell if it was fake, or if it was true enthusiasm. "The Warblers," he explained with a sudden happiness in his voice that sounded fake to his ears, but he ignored that. No way he was going to appear as that gay depressed child whose parents just died, because somewhere on the inside, something was wrong with visiting your rival school. Something must've pushed him. Kurt looked _lost._ "Every now and then, they throw an impromptu performance in senior commons. Tends to shut the shoot the school up for a while."

Kurt looked like he'd just heard something revolutionary. "So, what the Glee club here is kind of _cool_?" he said that word as if it was just impossible to link those two together.

"The Warblers are like rockstars," Blaine explained. He forgot to mention how it was like a bad thing to have the whole student body shooting you pitying glances because your parents weren't alive anymore and you were locked into a school with minimal going out unless your aunt lets you, but he honestly just didn't want to remember. He kept a smile on his face on all times as if it was wrong to be sad, because he knew Kurt was sad. He needed this. "Come on. I know a shortcut."

Kurt's hand was so warm and soft when Blaine had touched it. He wondered if Kurt used any crèmes or lotions. Kurt looked like he was going through clouds in his dream when Blaine refused to let go of his hand as he took him to the common room. Kurt's hand was just so different, so soft, so nice…it was almost like Kurt was indirectly comforting him. When he'd taken him inside, Kurt looked frantic. "Oh, I stick out like a sore thumb."

Blaine felt some slight discomfort in his stomach, knowing _that_ feeling more than anything. Blaine knew it was not just the clothing, the atmosphere, so much more. He _knew_.

_Joseph left, and Blaine was staring down at the broth-based soup that smelled like they'd drowned a salt shaker in it. "I don't care about rice, Momma," Blaine said._

_"Must be the carrots." The woman tried to convince herself so._

_"Yeah," Blaine said, as he pushed around the rice with his fork. "Must be." _

In that fashion, Blaine had slowly pulled the collar just to smooth him out, as if trying to convince himself that there was nothing wrong with Kurt, even though he knew there was. "Next time don't forget your jacket, new kid." He told him. "You'll fit right in," he winked at him to ease the tension. Lies. All of it was lies, just to help Kurt feel at ease.

He put his shoulder bag down. Suddenly, he forgot that just a few moments ago he didn't want to do this performance and if Thad donated a lung, he wouldn't. Nick had been pestering him for months, but Blaine didn't know. There was something about Kurt, something as strange as Stephen, something beautiful that only he could see. Something weird, a _good_ kind of weird. "Now if you'll excuse me."

He sung. He sung like his life depended on it.

The only thing that fuelled that song was Kurt's smile. What a strange, strange beautiful thing that was. Immediately after, Blaine had gone up to Kurt and then he realised that Kurt was indeed very strange, because he smelled a lot like locally grown roses and espressos, but it was the kind of strange that kept Blaine sane at that very moment. Because Stephen used to give him local roses and that made him happy. Now, just being next to Kurt, he felt more at ease than he'd ever felt in years – the kind of ease that outdid Stephen, because Blaine knew what Kurt was. Kurt was him. They were both lost, and God had given him such a beautiful gift. Kurt was there for a reason and Blaine hated his 'everything happens for a reason' reasoning right now.

Kurt was going to leave.

"Coffee?" Blaine quickly asked, just to let him stay for a bit.

Kurt was upset. When Kurt was upset, he drank lattes. Blaine knew this from a fact from years of standing behind Kurt in line and watching him order things. Blaine can tell when Kurt was depressed and faking things, mostly because Blaine himself did the same thing.

"Latte?"

That took Kurt by surprise, but as Blaine pushed the coffee towards him in the coffee-smelling dining hall, Blaine couldn't help but feel like even with the scent of coffee lingering in the air, Kurt's scent was still as intoxicating as ever before, even when he was so away from him.

"Thank you," Kurt said, taking the coffee from him.

"This is Wes and David," Blaine explained, just to have something to say. He just wanted to say something, anything.

"It's very civilised for you to invite me over for coffee before you beat me up for spying," Kurt had finally said and Blaine felt like chuckling. Kurt was just so proper that it just…fit. Blaine didn't know what any other word to use. The whole thing and ensemble he was wearing and his voice fit somewhere in Kurt's mind. It was like he'd known him for years, but Blaine had only seen him walk, get coffee and the occasional muffin, complaining about the calories when eating said muffin and telling people how he was going to gain nine pounds from said lovely muffin.

"We're not going to beat you up," Wes assured him.

"You were such a terrible spy we thought it was sort of endearing," David added on with a persistent smile.

Blaine drank coffee. The only reason Wes and David hadn't kicked him out for trespassing was because he made Blaine look like sunshine and rainbows again. Blaine honestly couldn't feel bad anymore, but now that he was thinking, he felt that pain accumulating inside of his chest. He pushed away his problem like he pushed away Kurt's.

Blaine tried to maintain his posture as he pulled down his coffee. "Which led me to believe that spying on us wasn't the real reason you came." _Please let me be wrong. Please let him be okay. _

"Can I ask you guys a question?" Kurt said, and when he didn't get a response, he cautiously asked, "Are you guys all gay?"

Blaine's chest tightened. He _hated_ that word. He tried to avoid that word as much as possible. He always never used it. He said 'he liked boys' and 'he didn't like girls' but the word gay felt strong and got stuck into his throat. Blaine nervously laughed which made Kurt laugh along with him just to not feel completely and utterly humiliated.

"Uh-uh—_no_," Blaine said after a while, trying to steady himself. "I mean I am," he couldn't even bear to say the damned word, "but these two have girlfriends."

"This is not a _gay_ school," David explained and for some reason, _gay_ came off as harsh in Blaine's mind. "We just have a zero tolerance bullying policy."

"Everyone gets treated the same, no matter what they are. It's pretty simple."

_Killer. Killer. Killer. Killer. You're a killer. _Blaine's mind ran over his head as he stared at Kurt's face, which was full of disbelief. Blaine's heart pounded, but he kept his face stoic. He could not do this. He could not break down and make Kurt suddenly shake with confusion and fear. Kurt did not need this. He cannot ruin someone else's life. _You can fix him. You can fix him and forget about Stephen and it'll all be okay. It'll all be okay if you help someone like him. Something strange like him. It'll be okay._ Deep down in the bottom of Blaine's heart, he knew this wasn't true at all.

Blaine still found his voice and asked, "Would you guys excuse us?"

They knew when Blaine said that, he had to be alone with him. David would've normally protested, and maybe even Wes sometimes but they still left without a sound. They felt sorry for him. What a stupid thing. _You killed Stephen and now, God took away your parents because you're a gay sinner. You should go rot in Hell. _

"Take it easy, Kurt," Wes told him before he left.

Blaine knew why. He could see it too. He can see Blaine in Kurt, but honestly, all Blaine can see was Stephen…even him…he can see in Kurt what he saw in every petrified gay child he'd ever known, _fear, disgrace, pain, horror, unaccepted, judgement…just being done. Done._. Kurt took a deep breath afterwards. Kurt was trying to steady himself too. Blaine can tell he was just appearing composed, but there was something inside that mirrored Blaine's pain.

"I'd take it that you're having trouble at school," Blaine said, and by God, he hoped it was wrong and he can just stick carrots up his mouth and _shut up_. By God, all he wanted to do was shut up. He was trying to get into someone else's life, but he felt obligated to. Not even because of Stephen, but because Kurt was so sad. Those blue eyes were so sad.

"I'm the…only person out of the closet in my school," Kurt finally said and Blaine felt the first blow to his heart, making him feel shaky. He didn't even flinch. Kurt was just opening up to him, just now, and if he made a scene or threw up, Kurt would be turned off. Kurt would believe he'd turn into Blaine. And what was Blaine anything but—

_Killer. Killer. Killer. Killer._

"And I…I tried to stay strong about it," Kurt said, and Blaine can hear it too, a strength that nobody else could, something just beyond those blue eyes. "But there is this Neanderthal who has made it his mission…to make my life a living Hell."

"I know how you feel," Blaine hated using those words. Those words were often incorrect, but Blaine was honestly just telling the truth. Blaine hated he was right and now amount of convincing that Kurt was alright made him stop speaking. Kurt was _not_ okay and he won't be unless Blaine did something. "I got taunted at my old school. And it really…pissed me off. I even complained about it to the faculty. They're sympathetic and all but I can just tell that nobody really cared. It was just like 'hey, if you're gay, your life is just going to be miserable'. There's nothing you can do about it. So I left. And I came here," he made a gesture with his hands just to steady himself again. He didn't know how Kurt can't see a thing of his façade, but that might be good. "So that was that."

Kurt stared down right now, and those blue eyes flickered.

"So you have two options," and now, Kurt had met Blaine's eyes again in some dark dance. "You know I'd love to tell you to just come and enrol here but tuition's also kind of steep and I know that it's not an option for everyone _or_…"

Blaine tried not to think about the other option but he spat it out anyway. "You can refuse to be a victim."

Blaine just explained, tried to. He tried to give Kurt what he'd always wanted, a _courage_ in him he can't find. "Prejudice is just ignorance. You have a chance right now to change it."

"How?" It seemed so foreign to Kurt that it hurt Blaine too. Blaine had never considered it an option to stand up to anything as he hid in the shadows with Stephen, giving him stolen kisses and pretending they didn't even know each other in school at Valentine's Day.

"Confront him. Call him out." Blaine said, trying to motivate Kurt but he felt like he was failing at it morosely.

"I ran, Kurt." Blaine said. _Ran away from Stephen, ran away from my house, ran away. I just ran away_. "I didn't stand up. I let it all chase me away and it's something I really, really regret."

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry I killed you, Steph. I'm sorry._

* * *

Whenever he thought of Stephen, Blaine just sent Kurt a text. _Courage_. In the middle of Warbler practice. _Courage_, when his mind rang of the thought of those brown eyes. The thing was that Blaine barely thought of Stephen anymore. He used to think about him all the time but in the span of three days, he'd only thought about him twice. Blaine didn't know how to feel about that. He knew the blonde would've wanted him to let go, but he couldn't. He couldn't let go. It made him physically sick to think about letting go, but it made him horrible thinking about clinging on any longer.

The thought of his parents seemed to be the last straw and it was so hard not to think about his Father's blue eyes or his Mother's brown eyes. He'd always looked like his Mother. It was always something he was proud of and now he hated it. He despised it more than anything that he looked like her, because now, he was living a personal Hell just by looking at the mirror every day. Blaine hated that he had her eyes or her skin tone, but even if he looked like Cooper, he'd hate it too because he'd think of his Father.

Kurt was supposed to confront Karofsky soon and ever since that talk, Blaine had three panic attacks at the thought of Kurt being hurt, or winding up dead for no reason. He cannot handle another death. The panic attacks were slowly sent by a trip to the nurse where she made him fall asleep for an hour or so before he had to go to his next class. The third time it happened in less than a week, Amy had taken him to a Doctor and he'd been giving pills. Blaine hadn't taken any of them. He prayed and prayed and prayed—

And then his phone rang.

Blaine had taken it into his ear, and composed himself, trying to think of all things God, but thinking of God made him think of how revolting he was, and how wrong he was. He suddenly felt just as bad as he would've if he'd had sex every day and still turned to God to plunge all of his skins. He heard from his religious uncle once that _God will cleanse every sin, Blaine, every sin – but going against God himself _and he'd killed Stephen. He can't see how God for forgive him for murdering the boyfriend he shouldn't have had.

_Put down the Bible, Blaine. It's not for you. It's for good people. You're not a good person. You're a fucking whore. _

Blaine heard Kurt talk. When Kurt's voice was frantic, Blaine thought Kurt was hospitalised or on the verge of death and Blaine didn't want to think about Kurt dying on the phone. He'd felt his heart race and his hands go clammy. His anxiety meds peered at him from the drawer. Kurt explained that Karofsky kissed him. Blaine heard Kurt say that he was the only one who knew. Kurt trusted him. God was giving him another chance and by God, if he screwed this up, he wouldn't know what to do to himself.

_Thank you thank you thank you thank you._

That Sunday, Blaine went to his church. This time, he didn't have his parents, but they let him sit down. They all knew he was gay. Some of them wouldn't dare approach him but the priest, Gabriel's, first words were, "God has not told us to judge. We all live in peace. Blaine's sexuality may be a crime or a sin but have we not all lied? Have we not all sinned? If you discriminate the words of God, you are worse than a sinner. Being gay is not one of the deadly sins, but pride is one and do you think that your _arrogance_ to Blaine or any homosexual is the direct path to Heaven? Yes, being gay is an abnormality in all religions but is not putting your body through cosmetic procedure, or even a genetic disorder an abnormality? Does one choose to be gay to be hated by this society? Do you have a say in what is right and what is wrong?"

Blaine stared up at the man with shining eyes that were filling. Blaine told himself that that was the last time he would be so weak, as to cry. He stayed even after their time was up. He prayed. Some of the prayers were to Stephen and his parents, and to rest in peace after death, but most of them were to Kurt. He prayed that Kurt would be okay, and told God that he could punish him all he wanted for his sins but just to not hurt Kurt. He hoped God would listen.

Almost as if Gabriel knew what Blaine was thinking, "Pray, child. God will always listen."

* * *

Blaine realised he was envious of Kurt in some way. He was envious that Kurt was so effortlessly perfect despite everything. Blaine had always been after perfection but along with the feelings of envy, he was envious most of all that Kurt had a parent that loved him. Blaine would do _anything_ to have any parent, any one of his parents really. The envy made Blaine sick. Envy was one of the deadly sins, and he prayed that it would go away. Kurt was effortlessly perfect, and Blaine had to work on being perfect, on not losing his cool and being angry. Now, anger was just another sin. Blaine was so full of sins and he wished to redeem himself. Blaine had tried to purge his sins through music sometimes, but that wouldn't work. He'd say on how sorry he was or how evil and disgusting he was but it wasn't as pure as it was. He was a killer. He was nothing more than a murderer. When Kurt had asked him to come to him, to help him with the Karofsky situation, Blaine jumped at the chance for redemption. Of course, Blaine felt horrible that he was just happy that Kurt was hurt so he can show him that he'd always have Blaine.

"Just let me do all the talking," Blaine had told Kurt when they'd gotten there. If they got in trouble, Blaine did not want Kurt to take the fall for it.

"There he is," Kurt had told him, and his eyes were on Dave right then.

Blaine had stared up to see the predator. He looked large, like one of those jocks that bashed his head in. Blaine felt like he was confronting his past instead of Kurt's bully.

Blaine just told Kurt right then, "I've got your back." Like Stephen had his on that night.

"Excuse me," Blaine tried to be polite. He found no use in violence just yet, but Dave looked like he didn't want the politeness, just the violence, just like those boys that beat up Blaine to a pulp.

"Hey, lady boys."

Dave asked Kurt quite bluntly. "That your boyfriend, Kurt?"

Blaine found iciness in that statement. He didn't know why that statement made him feel the way it did, but it just did. "Kurt and I want to talk to you about something."

"I gotta go to class."

Dave touched Kurt's chest and even that gesture made Blaine's blood boil. _Please God please God please God don't make me explode in anger, make me strong…pristine…pure…perfect._

"Kurt told me what you did," sporting a confidence he had never known before, Blaine thought that this was more appropriate than the violence screaming he wanted to fall into.

"Oh yeah?" the large male's eyes locked with Blaine's, and Blaine saw that…that thing he'd seen in Kurt, in Stephen, in him, the flash of _fear_. "What's that?"

"You kissed me," Blaine's heart thudded and gave away. Blaine was suddenly mesmerised by how perfect Kurt was, by how strong he was.

"I don't know whatcha talking about."

That denial struck Blaine the hardest. Blaine spent his whole life in that denial, and so did his parents. He still did, so that made Blaine slightly warm up to Dave. His heart melted into sympathy and all of the anger disappeared. "It seems you may be a little confused. And that's totally normal. This is a very hard thing to come to terms with and you should just know that you're not alone."

_You're not like me, Dave. You're not a murder. A killer. Don't be one. Run away. Because you'll regret it, because you'll regret all of it. _

Dave had shoved Blaine into the fence. Blaine wanted to be beat up. He wanted to die. He'd rather have him die instead of Kurt. He should've died instead of Stephen. He should've done something. He didn't fight back. He did not retaliate. He was ready for another blow when—

"Stop it!"

Blaine heard Kurt become something more than just a boy like him. Blaine had something Kurt would never have, that perfection that made him so beautiful, so pristine and so porcelain lovely that he'd stood up for Blaine to the one male that had driven Kurt insane and made his life a living Hell. Dave had left, and Blaine's first defence, like his Father, was try to make a joke out of it.

"Well, he's not coming out any time soon," Blaine laid back towards the fence, ignoring the pain.

"What's going on?" he asked when he noticed Kurt had sat down. "Why are you so upset?"

"'Cause until yesterday, I have never been kissed. At least, one that counted."

Blaine's mind flashed back to his first kiss, with Stephen. In that second, he just wiped Stephen out of his mind. _I ran, Kurt._ And he was still running hard, away. Every minute of every day, his mind was usually filled with thoughts of Stephen, of his family, of how he killed Stephen, of how God had taken away his parents because of what he did to Stephen and God had all the right to show Blaine how selfish he was, how wrong he was, try to change him.

"Come on. I'll buy you lunch." Blaine offered, trying to change the subject. Blaine realised that was his life now. He thought of Stephen or his parents all the time, tried to run away from it, only for the thoughts to somehow find their way back again, leaving him a wreck. The Dalton uniform felt like a prison and Kurt's hand was just so warm when they left hand-in-hand. "Kurt, do you use any lotions?"

"Well yes," Kurt chuckled weakly. "Is it bothering?"

"No," Blaine said, running his thumb against Kurt's knuckles. "It's just different." Blaine had noticed Kurt was distant. "What?"

"Different," Kurt said, shaking his head. "That's the word some people use to describe gay people. I like it better, but it's not realistic. We're not different, we're the same as anyone else in the world, but the only thing that is _different_ is our taste in sexuality. It's like saying that you and I are different because we're not girls. It's normal. We're the same as anyone else in this messed up universe. Blaine? Blaine, are you okay? You're zoning out on me."

Blaine nodded his head. He was numb. He had no thought process. "Just your scarf. It's nice."

"Oh! This?" Kurt tugged at the grey scarf. "Well, I'd let you have it but this one doesn't work with your blazer to be honest and I'm a stickler for proper clothing and…"

Blaine smiled weakly as he fixed Kurt's scarf slightly. This caused Kurt to stare at Blaine as if Blaine had done something magical. "Oh," Kurt blushed into a deep rosy hue that made Blaine feel like his world was melting at the palm of his hands. "How do I look?"

"You look like the most perfect thing in the world," Blaine stared at him, eyes glittering in idolisation of this completely _perfect_ person, "I think it's called a Kurt."

* * *

Kurt was safe.

* * *

Kurt was safe and that was all that mattered.

* * *

Kurt was safe and loved him.

* * *

Blaine met Jeremiah. Jeremiah was older than him. Blaine got hopelessly lost again. He went to church the next day because he felt like he'd just sinned when he'd made Jeremiah lose his job.

* * *

Kurt was safe.

* * *

Kurt and Blaine got together. Blaine kissed him when Kurt sung Blackbird. During that moment, he could not think of anything but Kurt, and Kurt's voice. Blaine knew right then Kurt was the medicine for an ailment Kurt didn't even now he had. The kiss was magical and Blaine thought it was better than any kiss he'd ever had. Blaine knew he never wanted to kiss any other lips in the world.

* * *

Blaine laughed. He hadn't heard his own laugh in a real long time. It was so genuine, so beautiful. Blaine realised he loved to laugh.

* * *

It flashed 9:42. Blaine did not freeze or stare at the time. He barely even noticed it passed.

* * *

Blaine told Burt about his parents. He told him that his Dad used to try to straighten him up with a car. Then came a time where he didn't. When he found Blaine praying. Blaine had always prayed because as much as he was wrong, he still believed in God, and he still believed he can be saved.

* * *

For the first time ever, Blaine wondered why something so beautiful as love can be a sin. He had washed his face with cold water and went to church for five hours, just sitting there. Gabriel told him that love was the most beautiful thing in the world and that they didn't know if God would punish him for loving people. Gabriel said to him it seemed impossible. Blaine didn't know. All of his life he'd been taught it was a sin.

That moment, Blaine realised all of his life was a lie.

* * *

He had lied. He'd told Kurt he'd never had a boyfriend. That was the first lie, and lying was a sin. He was a horrible, horrible person and he should choke on his own vomit right now.

* * *

Blaine realised as much as he loved laughing or medium drips that he paid with his aunt's money, or any of that, he loved Kurt Hummel more than anything else in the world.

And Kurt loved him back.

* * *

Kurt loved him back.

* * *

Kurt was safe.

* * *

Kurt loved him back.

* * *

When Kurt had told him to leave Dalton, he did.

He talked to Amy, laughed with her and she was happy he was so happy. He found her keys, got the keys and just drove. He had nothing but the money in his pockets that he'd saved up over the course of weeks. It was only sixty dollars and he had to live by sixty dollars for food. His clothing was all in the back of his car and he didn't need anymore. If he wanted to shower, he had to do it in a lake. Blaine had realised he was just insane. Insane for being so swooned by Kurt. He could tell Kurt he had no parents, and that Dalton was his only home. He hadn't been in his house for a year and a bit and Amy would look for him there first. He left Amy a note saying _Please don't find me. I'll text you. _He always texted her in restaurants or cafes that were really far apart from each other. She called him but he never picked up.

He had gone off to different churches every Sunday just in case Amy would find him and then he'd run. He hadn't caught up with her yet, but he was running again. He hated running. It was all weakness. All of it. Just a day before he registered for his classes at McKinley all by himself, he needed her and she did it for him. She didn't even look at him, spitting out words about how insane he was, about how he should go back home and that was when Blaine threatened her with suicide. Blaine had never said that word out loud but ever since he had, she'd been scared of doing anything and he'd been contemplating it day in and day out. It seemed so perfect. Sometimes, he planned out deaths in the back of his car.

All Kurt knew was that Blaine somehow walked down the school hallway dressed in red pants, his yellow sunglasses placed on his hip just above a white belt that kept his pants together, his black shirt and a bowtie. He felt so free and colourful. He nearly felt beautiful, but beautiful people didn't murder other people. He saw Kurt spraying his hair with hairspray. They were no strangers.

"Hey," Blaine greeted him, pressing against Kurt's locker.

"Aren't you a sight for these sore eyes," Kurt's eyes were completely locked with Blaine's.

Blaine felt so self-righteous placing a hand on one of the lockers, as he asked him, "Bad day?"

"Bad week more like it," Kurt complained and just about to leave, Blaine had followed him in the hallways. Everything was new. Everything was a whole different memory and even Kurt's rosy-smelling skin smelled so different in these hallways. They smelled okay. Blaine didn't know why he wasn't in so much pain right now, because that night, he was thrashing around in that car, screaming from a hunger pain, screaming from how much he wanted to sleep but the sharp cutting pain across his stomach prevented him from falling asleep as his tortured body tried to distract Blaine from his exhaustion. Right now, all of that didn't seem to matter. Blaine didn't know why, but just seeing Kurt washed away the pain, and all that memory. "Wait, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at Warbler practice doing the fine tuning touches on a new Katy Perry show-stopper?"

Kurt's voice made him melt. The universe seemed right, all of it.

"Okay," Blaine began. "For someone who loves clothes so much, I can't believe you haven't noticed I'm not in my Warbler outfit."

Kurt's face lit with recognition. "Wait, wait," he said, putting a finger in the air as he put two and two together in his mind. All Blaine can do was grin and then he was attacked with something so warm, so beautiful, and so perfect that it wasn't just an embrace. It was an envelope of promise, and security that Blaine hadn't felt in such a long time. "Wait, wait, you didn't do this for me, did you? Well, if you did, it would be very romantic for one but it could lead to resentment which could lead to anger which could lead to a horrible, horrible nasty breakup like you know—"

"Hey, hey, hey," Blaine said, cutting Kurt off in the middle of his babble. "I came here for me because I can't stand to be apart from the person I love."

They talked about how Blaine was going to introduce himself to McKinley. He was happy. He was light. He didn't think of Stephen at all when he was dancing down to _It's Not Unusual. _Even though it was Stephen's song. His favourite song. Stephen was gone, he realised, but maybe he didn't have to be guilty. He wasn't guilty. He can't be guilty for something he couldn't stop, right?

That night, Blaine was still in his car, staring at the ceiling of his car and realised everything. He lived in the same clothing day in and day out, making different combinations of things from his obscenely large closet. He still had that sixty dollars. Sometimes, Amy would text him to give him money. He'd always lie and said he didn't need that much money. She gave him moneys in fifties for him. He was too ashamed to tell her he needed more for that in a week, alone. He had a savings for gas…other savings for food. Amy bought him a card as he can just swipe a card at McKinley so he can pay for food. Blaine realised he was living Hell when he was alone, hungry, scared…hearing voices he'd never heard before, trying to drown out everything with his iPod. He usually walked to stores and shops, and sometimes would call Nick or Jeff or any of the Warblers to 'spend a night'. They had no idea that Blaine didn't have a home.

Blaine realised right then that people can tell him that he wasn't guilty, that he didn't want to kill Stephen that it wasn't his fault, but he'd never believe it.

He will always be a disgusting, revolting sin. He would always be condemned to Hell.

When he came to this realisation, he was in the park, on his laptop doing his Spanish assignment – he'd have written it on paper but it was already too dark and Blaine was too tired to walk all the way towards a store. Laptop had its own light. He wrote and wrote and then he realised his life had no purpose, nothing. He would die and go to Hell. He was already living Hell.

It was in that moment alone did Blaine really try to figure out how he wanted to kill himself. Suicide was also a sin, but he'd be so sinful. He'd pushed away God, he'd pushed away everything and everyone. He—

His phone buzzed. He looked down and saw that Kurt had texted him. _I love you, Blaine._

Blaine smiled weakly, taking the phone in his hand. If he died, Kurt's friends might not give a damn, his step-brother might even be happy, the Warblers would get over it…but Kurt…the boy whom he had wanted to save, would die on the inside.

_I love you too, Kurt. I love you too. _

* * *

_xo Peanut Butter/Sam._


	2. Chapter 2

_feedback replies because anyone who reads chapters that long loves me._

_to **AliWrabbit1234 (cuuute name)**, awww. i'm glad you think so love. and yay. i wasted your morning. :P __to **anderpson (hi again!)**, and ughhh ,the amount of Blangst in here should be...canon. moar canon Blangst i say but ugh, this thing is just full of so much Blangst it's nice (maybe). __to **JAStheSPAZZrocks**, i also do evil parents!Blaine and not so evil parents!Blaine. i guess i wanted this fanfic to be a bit of a chance. just so it'll hurt Blaine more than his parents are dead because he has good memories with them. __to **DracoUDanced**, more is coming up soon! though i honestly don't know when else i'm going to update. these chapters are...big. very big. __to **PenMagic**, the short sentences thing was bugging me. i didn't want a time skip but i also didn't want to not cover what was there so i just wrote little sentences. sometimes they have an amazing impact. oh no, sweetie. not a one-shot. xD. and uhh it might be another 'kill off Blaine' story. i seriously have no clue right now. oh! and i fixed the faculty thing. im amazed that this simple plot got an astounding response then. _

_just to let you guise know, this fanfic will have a lot of scenes that are from the Season and a lot of scenes that are made up (the made-up ones are usually with Sebastian). there is a heavy Seblaine friendship here. **whatever i decide to do, if Seblaine ever happens - KLAINE is endgame here.**_

_**Warnings for mentions of rape and cutting (yes, this will probably escalate into cutting anyway).** _

* * *

Chapter 2

* * *

Blaine had woken up that morning in his car. His shoulders ached but it was the type of ache Blaine always hoped would go away but it didn't. His bones ached underneath the feeling of his navy shirt he'd worn through the weekend. He smelled it quickly to asses if he can still wear it to school. He was plunged deep into the woods now, just him and his small Lexus with a whole bag in the truck of his clothing – well, only half of it, the others had been left off against a few boulders. The boulders had towels over them just because he wanted to protect his clothing. He'd only had three towels so he can only dry three sets of clothing a day, but he'd learned to be alright with this. If he never skipped out on laundry, then he can wash his clothing all the time. He smelled horrible. He had a few bars of soap now – peppermint and lavender, natural bodily scents so he didn't need to use a lot of it. He had managed to find a gallon of liquid castile soap – which he easily used for his hair. He knew it from heart that it worked for both body and hair just in case he ran out of normal soap. He had a crystal deodorant, which was fairly inexpensive. He just wanted to make sure that he didn't smell like shit all the time. In the weekends, he usually never left the car so he barely bathed in the weekends, just because he can't bear to use up two days' worth of soap for no reason at all.

The worst part was when it came to people noticing things that were a bit off with Blaine. Blaine was winded at trying to keep up his façade. The worst part was the most obvious weight loss. It wasn't that Blaine was trying to intentionally lose weight but he couldn't eat all the time. Actually, the only meals that were ensured was lunch and (lunch he'd gotten from his school card—he actually ate perfectly. The food went against his vegetarianism so usually, he was stuck eating salad or lettuce or whatever with his fries. Really just anything that wasn't full of meat was shoved in his tray, healthy or unhealthy—Blaine honestly didn't care) and if it was a good day and if one of the Warblers weren't busy, he'd go by their house and he'd sit there and eat dinner with them. Usually, this was at Nick's whom was still begging him to come back to Dalton.

Sometimes, he'd get a sneak at around Nick's scales just to ensure he wasn't losing too fast but it scared the hell out of him when he'd realised that in the month he was with Kurt, he'd lost ten pounds, ten _visible_ pounds – and that was with the fact that Burt and Carole liked Blaine staying over for dinner as well, so Blaine wasn't _that_ malnourished. Except for the fact that Carole made everything low-fat and Blaine felt like he wasn't allowed to eat more than half or so of his plate. It was the same with Nick or Jeff, or anyone. They always thought that Blaine ate small around dinner but that wasn't the case. If Blaine had paid for it himself, he'd eat it but he hated taking things from people. It made him sick to think that all of this glorious food was being wasted towards _him_. Blaine didn't care what anyone told him. He was a _killer_. He barely deserved food as it was. He was so gluttonous and greedy half the time.

His mind only flashed back to that day he walked towards the mirror two months after the Sadie Hawkins dance, trying to recognise that boy—that boy that weighed one-ten-five with a BMI of 18.6, looking so small. He'd never really been underweight per say, but he still looked sick to himself for some reason. It wasn't just the weight loss – mostly, muscle loss really. Blaine had always been used to being in the 'overweight' region of the BMI but that was a lie because all of his 'overweightness' was dispersed as muscle. Now, he had his built back, his normal built that was also slowly slipping away due to lack of time to go to McKinley's gym to use it. His normal built can't _disappear_ from him again. If he kept this up, he'd be back to where he was three years ago in _months_. He can't be like that. It was somewhat a cry for help. If Kurt noticed, if Kurt noticed this, he'd _cry_. If anything, he would never dare make that vulnerable boy back into life again, that boy that walked around the house without any knowledge of himself, scared, didn't know what to do, just thinking of Stephen all the time, the guilt…the guilt still was alive, ripping him apart. Who was he kidding? The guilt would always run after him.

_He fucking killed Stephen. _Of course, he'd always feel guilty. He'd always feel guilty. He decided that the clothes smelled good enough. He hadn't left the car in days. He had his laptop in his bag and he'd charge it at school. School didn't close completely until eight or nine and that was when the janitorial staff usually came around, but for Blaine, he always stayed there the longest. Usually to finish the assignments that actually needed interne, hooked on the school's internet basis for the most bit. If he still needed to cram for an assignment that he had to hand in, then the Lima Bean was just down the road and they had free wireless internet as well that he can use up to his capabilities.

That day, Blaine was still in his clothing from the weekend. Kurt talked with him when they were doing booty camp thanks to Mr Schue. Kurt was talking about the school musical and Blaine listened intently to every word before he spat out, "I can't decide between Maria or Something's Coming," he confessed.

"But those are all Tony songs," Kurt pointed out. "Are you auditing for Tony too?"

Only then did Blaine actually realise how awkward it would be to rival with his boyfriend. He had never thought it was true rivalling though. Suddenly, a panic seeped from his older days, the kind of panic that he got when he was sure he said something stupid and he was going to pay for it. As usual, the dancing helped loosen his tension dramatically as he asked Kurt as calmly as possible – the last thing he wanted to do was make a scene, "Would that be weird?"

To be honest, Blaine did want to run. Then he realised how stupid it would be to run just because he thought that he'd done something that might hurt their relationship.

"No, no, not at all," Blaine knew that when Kurt repeated words, it was usually when he was lying. "I mean, you'd be a great Tony. The _perfect_ Tony actually in some respects."

Kurt would never know how badly Blaine was addicted to the word "_perfect_". He loved that word. Perfect. Perfection. It was something Blaine would have killed for. Sometimes, he felt repulsive for wanting perfection, striving for it, because God made humans so perfectly imperfect, but to be honest, Blaine realised _he wasn't human_. Humans did not kill their boyfriends. Only inhuman people did that. Monsters, not even _people_. Blaine had to be perfect then otherwise, how would he cleanse himself of any of his sins? Make things just a bit better than before? Blaine would never lie to himself about it but he realised that the only reason he thought about suicide so often was because he wanted the perfect death, something planned, beautiful, tragic. He was a beast. He wanted to be pretty to offset that bit about him that he hated the most, the bit that made his sanity ebb away the more he thought of it. He wanted to mask how bad he really was by creating something beautiful just for a bit, because he can't live with reality any longer.

Mr Schue gave out instructions, spat them out. Blaine realised it was time to be perfect.

"Well…except…" he tried to find an excuse for why he couldn't do Tony. "I'm a junior and Tony's the lead, which means that a _senior_ should probably play that part."

He would never admit it but he'd said the word senior which a thought of contempt in his mind, that he was younger than Kurt. Soon, he wouldn't have a Kurt to hold onto anymore. He didn't know how to feel about that at all. It scared him, the thought of losing Kurt after all he'd done for him, after the pain of sitting there at three am, unable to sleep because the hunger won't go away. Kurt would never really know, and Blaine wanted to make sure he never did. It would kill Blaine to see Kurt realise that his boyfriend was sleeping in a car…his boyfriend regularly slept in a car actually.

Kurt tried to convince himself too. "Yeah, that is kinda how it works, huh?"

Blaine then ensured, "I mean I'd be fine with Bernardo or Officer Krupke as long as it was opposite to your Tony." That was another lie, another lie added on to the pile of lies he'd come accustomed to tell Kurt. _No, Kurt, I have never had a boyfriend. You're my first everything. My parents are busy this weekend and we can't go home. No, I'm sure I didn't lose any weight. Yes, I'm sure I'm eating properly. Kurt, I'm fine. I feel fine. _One lie after another. He was an atrocious thing, he was. Lying was a sin, a sin that his Father did not tolerate. Joseph once told Blaine that he'd tolerate anything in the world, just not lying but now, Blaine was doing it all the time. Blaine felt his stomach hurt, twist in acid because of his lies. With every lie, he felt the need to remember them, just so he won't say anything that would contradict something he'd already said.

Blaine wanted the lights. The lights were just another word for perfect. Blaine wanted to get the part. He was selfish. He was so _selfish_. Kurt was so happy though, that smile that was on his face, that made him even shrug off Mr Schue's command. Kurt was so _happy_. How could anything that would make his angel smile that wide be wrong? It wasn't. Blaine was just selfish as always. It killed him too.

He watched Kurt come crashing down. His campaign wasn't going well. Blaine watched from the side-lines. Kurt tearing posters in rage, humiliation – the kind of humiliation that made Blaine's heart swell. Blaine realised he'd never been slushied once. He was happy about it too. He carried around his laptop in his locker, some clothing just in case something did happen. It was on the mid-October when Blaine tried to get up but Tina pointed out that his pants were practically sliding off his hips. Blaine had been so anxious, running to his locker and looking for his belt. He had to make a notch in that belt. Tina had followed to check up after lunch, asking him if he was eating well. Blaine faked a smile and laughed about reading books and watching television shows. _When do you have time to eat these days?_ Inside, he was panicking. His eyes were bloodshot again, like before. He tried to hide them. He tried to wash them away, his little eye drops from years ago still with him, still usable. Sometimes, he was able to mask them. He was happy the times he wasn't, nobody else was around him to call him out on his bullshit.

Blaine realised he lived in a constant fear of someone figuring out his whole façade, everything…in minutes. He realised it was so _possible_. It scared him every waking moment. He noticed all the signs, the clothes he kept on wearing, the way he barely talked about his pants or parents, the way he knew everything about Kurt but Kurt barely knew him, the way he acted impulsively, with the bloodshot eyes and the weight loss that was appearing yet again to ruin his life.

He made a vow to himself that he would not lose weight. He refused to lose weight. He refused to lose any more sleep. He had to sleep. He had to eat. Kurt cannot know that there was something wrong with him. Kurt cannot know _anything_. Blaine was so hypocritical; inviting Kurt to pull him into this world, begging for him to explain what was ailing him only for Kurt to spill everything – the bullying, Karofsky, all to a stranger that had promised with his eyes that he would not judge him—but come with Kurt, he only touched about his past lightly, that he was 'beat up at a dance' and only when the issue arose. If it hadn't, Blaine wouldn't have said anything. He told nobody he knew about his family, unless absolutely necessary information. He'd rather not let them know that his parents were dead. He had told Burt a true story, but had emphasised on the fact that it was 'before'. Now, his Father was dead. They can't built and rebuilt Chevy's. He can do nothing with the dead but mourn them. And Blaine did. Blaine mourned his Father, his Father's memory – everything, every day. His Mother…there were no words to describe how much he missed his Mother.

They would've killed him if they ever knew he blamed himself for Stephen's dead, that he blamed himself for _their_ death. Everything happened for a reason. Stephen's death because of Sadie Hawkins, and then after Sadie Hawkins and just a little over three months of recovery, he lost his parents too. He wasn't allowed to be the poor little boy whose parents had died, because he deserved that pain, that raw gnawing pain. His parents did not deserve to die. They were so young. In their forties. Just in their forties. Too young to die. But Blaine had to be selfish, Blaine had to make fate avenge Stephen by taking something precious from Blaine, by making him feel this kind of pain—apparently, the pain from Stephen's death _wasn't enough_, that pain that made him starve, the pain that gave him night terrors that ended up with him shaking and screaming about nonsense when his Mother tried to shake him back to life, the pain that made him sleepless, the pain that killed him every time he thought about it. That pain…it wasn't enough. He needed more pain, God had made it clear to him…that he needed to be hurt, that he needed to be so irrevocably hurt that in the agony, he'd cleanse his sin, that he'd show God that he was humane, that he did not mean for Stephen to get hurt. That was the only way Blaine can ever find any source of redemption.

Kurt was now Blaine's Stephen – except unlike Stephen, Blaine felt this kind of lightness that he couldn't associate with anything. Even having not eaten for days before, he wouldn't have associated that lightness to be as equivalent as if he was with Kurt, almost as if he no longer existed. He cannot hurt Kurt. If he hurt Kurt, then he would have no reason to live, so he played the part of Kurt's accessory, moving around with him with only shy, beautiful compliments, ensuring Kurt of how astounding he truly was. He did not want to swoon Kurt – to Blaine; it was just stating a fact, that Kurt was _perfect_…he was the so _imperfectly perfect_.

Kurt had been shattered about his campaigns. Blaine had gone in with the intentions of doing _Something's Coming_. He loved the stage. He sang the song. Every syllable had bits of his excitement, his happiness; with every single bit of it… he was floating on ice right now. No, floating on water, doing the impossible – when he sung, it was like his body was purging all of the emotions that he can't bear to say.

It was beautiful. It was the only time when Blaine can feel beautiful. Other times, he felt _disgusting_, _putrid_, and_ vile_. When he sung, he was in some near perfectionism. With every syllable he sung, an unfolded memory of a part of his humanity. _Something's Coming_ was a particular memory of watching West Side Story folded into his Mother's arms. He'd been eleven and she just wanted someone to watch it with him. His Mother's name was Maria, which was why he found it so hard to choose between _Something's Coming_ and _Maria_. Blaine realised he cannot call out his Mother's name. He'd break down. He'd cry. He cannot say their names or see physical evidence of them like pictures anymore, because it would be admitting that they existed, and that they didn't right at that moment, that they were dead. Through the song, he saw Kurt _smiling_ and now, he wasn't only floating on air, and he was beyond the cosmos. He felt like he was seeing universes and universes, like the stars all belonged to him. It was so, so beautiful.

After he was done singing, he glanced over at Artie, Emma and Coach Beiste. His heart was racing from a lovely adrenaline that still stayed with him moments after a song. Artie was smiling, the kind of smile that lit up his eyes. Blaine can never tell what colour Artie's eyes were, but it never mattered, because they were beautiful. The whole world seemed beautiful after a song like this, on a stage like this. "I so want to give you a standing ovation right now," Artie had called out, which made Blaine's heart swell with a kind of joy that he could never truly explain.

Blaine was so flattered. "Thank you," he turned to leave, because he wanted to leave feeling this light, this happy, this wonderful.

Then Artie talked and it all shattered.

"Wait, wait, your audition form—you said you were only interested in the role of Bernardo," Artie had pointed out.

It was such a simple statement but Blaine's heart was racing and his palms were sweating. He can almost feel where this was going to. He can't look at Kurt right now. He _can't_ look at Kurt, because if Artie was saying what Blaine thought he was going to say then Blaine will throw himself off a cliff first. His voice was higher when he spoke. "Yeah, or Officer Krupke. Either one is fine," his voice sounded hollow to himself, full of anxiety. He wanted to walk, run, scream – do anything but just stand there with his heart trembling in his chest, trembling then racing – flying, flying in an acceleration that Blaine can't truly control, an acceleration that made Blaine want to _puke_.

"Would…" Artie knew he shouldn't be asking but he did anyway. "…you mind reading for Tony?"

Blaine looked down. He felt like he was about to have a heart attack and just like that, the fear of disappointment reached up his skin. He didn't want to disappoint Artie. He didn't want to look at Kurt, but he did. He glanced at him, and Kurt's face was so full of shock and hurt that Blaine felt numbness, numbness from the sheer amount of pain that was curdling through his veins. To others, this might seem like nothing at all, but to Blaine, this was just what he didn't want to do. He was selfish. He wanted the lights, the colours, everything…he wanted to float and feel light. He wanted to feel like he was purging sin and emotion every time he sung but he did not deserve it. He felt that if he had rejected it, Kurt would be angry because he'd have rejected the part for him, but he if he took it, he felt like he'd never get over how badly he'd hurt Kurt. Kurt would understand. Blaine knew his angel understood everything. Kurt was leaving though but Blaine was still standing, hoping that the world wouldn't crash and burn before his eyes. Then the numbness left with Kurt, and burning in Blaine's heart was a type of fear and pain that was immense. Blaine left too afterwards.

"Is that a yes or a no?" Artie asked as Blaine was leaving.

"I don't know," Blaine said and was surprised at how small he sounded. Then he was gone with just that final note. Blaine felt like the most horrible human being ever. He didn't feel like eating anything and he felt like he deserved no sleep but he had to. He went through the lunch lines the next few days, feeling like everything was going to make him vomit. He picked up apples and rice cakes. He barely ate at all. He could barely sleep. He was afraid to step on the scale. He was afraid he'd throw up if he'd lost any more weight. He was afraid of Kurt finding out everything just by looking at him. Kurt was oblivious but if Blaine had suddenly collapsed in booty camp or Glee, then it was a clear sign something was wrong, so Blaine just stayed as far away from Kurt as possible. Kurt must've noticed that it hurt Blaine.

Kurt stayed away for a few days too, but just to digest everything. The next time Blaine properly saw Kurt was when Kurt was running up the stairs, smiling so widely, a smile that can break in his face. Blaine wondered why, because Blaine had done nothing but hurt Kurt. Kurt's smile was actually too tentative for words, suggesting he was hiding something. Kurt was so horrible at hiding things. "Cast list goes up on Friday," Kurt announced. "Are you nervous?"

There was no contempt in his angel's voice. Blaine felt his stomach tighten. How could his beautiful angel not see how corrupted he was? Blaine had looked down at his shoulder bag, almost as if trying to fixate his emotion, but he smiled. He smiled because Kurt was smiling at him.

"A little," Blaine had said – another lie. There was nothing called 'a little' nervous in Blaine's eyes. He was always in a state of anxiety and pain. He was always so _scared_ and _anxious_. His anxiety medication lay in the back of his trunk, unopened. Not _one_ single pill had been taken, because he didn't deserve to be helped or saved. He didn't deserve any of it. Kurt deserved that part. Kurt was _so imperfectly perfect_. "I'm trying not to think about it."

Try he did. It was still the reason why he can't sleep at night.

Kurt was still so happy. "I wouldn't be too worried. My mould in the casting office says there's only one actor seriously considered for the role of Tony and his initials are B. A.," Kurt had finally said. Blaine looked up, faking a smile and chuckling, because it felt wrong. He wanted Kurt to be angry at him, but instead, Kurt had presented him with a _bouquet of pink and yellow roses_.

"Kurt. They're beautiful," and they were, but they were given to the wrong person. Blaine picked up the bouquet from Kurt. "But what are they for?"

Kurt would never realise how serious Blaine was, because he didn't deserve any roses. For murdering his boyfriend? For murdering his parents? For giving everyone grief. For being such a disgusting fuck-up and taking everything from Kurt? Everything.

"You killed your audition, Blaine…" Kurt was then talking, wandering off and then explained that these roses were to 'celebrate'.

Blaine's stomach tightened because the last time he'd seen roses were at his parent's funeral. Amy dragged him there but Blaine wanted to tell her that he didn't want to see his parent's graves. He had placed a bunch of red and yellow roses on their graves, but he hadn't cried. His tears meant nothing. He'd killed them. He can't cry for them. Amy said that he was just in shock, and hugged him. She invited him for ice-cream which he didn't even want, and then gave him warm cookies. It all tasted so good, but it came with the price of guilt and heaviness on Blaine's shoulder.

"You always zig when I think you're about to zag and I…I just…" Blaine shook his head in disbelief. "I _love_ that about you." Blaine wanted to show him how much he appreciated Kurt's effort, wanted to kiss him but he couldn't. He watched students pass and then placed his hand on Kurt's shoulder, as tightly as his hand could go and he just said two simple words. "Thank you."

Kurt seemed like he couldn't find the word either, but he left. Blaine followed him, bringing the bouquet close to him and smelling roses. They were so real, so raw, and so _beautiful_. Blaine had never been so aware of how sickening he was compared to such delicate things. Kurt started to talk to him again and with that, came Kurt offering him cookies and sandwiches in break time. Blaine noticed Kurt had been shoving things down his throat that were high in fat and calories. He'd noticed. Blaine was panicking. Kurt _noticed_ that he was losing weight. He'd given him a solution for his eyes, but he had never addressed the issue directly. He'd never once asked Blaine, 'can you sleep? Can you eat? Are you okay?' most people would be offended but most people weren't Blaine. In some way, Kurt fed his fantasy that everything was alright, everything was fine and at night, he didn't lay in his car. He can always go back home but he _can't_.

Home had memories of him with his parents. If it was empty, he'd throw up. He can't go back there. Amy had always thought Blaine had just been living in an empty house. Blaine had no _courage_ to tell her otherwise, that he can't bear to step inside of his parent's house, that just thinking about it made him queasy. It made his chest tighten. It made him feel frazzled and hurt to think of going to an empty house. So he'd rather just leave it there. He just needed to be stronger. Blaine was such a hypocritical bitch, parading around, telling Kurt to find courage, when he had been such a _coward_…

He still felt happy when he saw that name on that cast list, like he mattered, like he was _important_. He turned around and the first thing he did in his fit of happiness was hug Kurt. He didn't look back, unless he'd catch that tentative look on Kurt's face through the fake smile. Kurt hugged him all the more, like he wasn't striving for the same role. Blaine's fit of happiness didn't truly end that day. He was torn between feeling like shit because it was _Kurt's role_ and torn between feeling light, remembering how he felt on that stage. Right now, when he saw that name, it was all he could do. Feel happy.

The days descended by so normally after that. Blaine had apparently gained some weight, which he was relieved to realise. He'd gained back to his original one-sixty-three and he felt fine about it as well. The only time that he felt completely attentive was of Finn's piercing gaze. It was almost like Finn knew what he did. It left him in fits of anxiety for over hours. Sometimes, he didn't even realise Finn was staring at him, but when he was doing _Last Friday Night,_ it was unnerving him. Every time he stayed a bit more with Finn, he felt the anxiety building up. Finn was like a physical being of his mind, just existing to make him miserable as he deserved. Blaine honestly wanted to thank Finn for reminding him of that. It wasn't like he wouldn't be reminded of that when he was alone, when it was dark – when he had nobody but himself as he dried off laundry and bathed in a frozen lake.

As for West Side Story, it was all going so well. Coach Beiste cried every time they sang. He liked how Rachel sounded with him. They sounded so lovely together.

Then _it_ happened. After they performed _Tonight_. Artie spoke.

"You two lack passion. Have any of you actually…?"

The talk of the dreadful sex. Emma and Beiste left. Blaine felt the whole world caught in his throat, in an absolute _fire_. "Look, I remember my first time with Brittany. The excitement, the way it made me feel like a man – even though she called me the wrong name like four times during and after…what was it like for you guys?" and then, there it was the question that made Blaine want to projectile vomit. He held onto the music sheets because if he didn't, his hands would probably shake like they used to when he was nervous.

"Um…" Rachel and Blaine quickly exchanged looks.

"I'm waiting for the right time," Blaine spat out. Another lie. He'd had sex with Stephen before, and it was completely awkward the first time. All Blaine did was cry and tell him he didn't want it, but Stephen kept on going. Blaine found the experience to be completely and utterly _humiliating_. He had honestly wanted to puke every time he remembered it, mostly because the small experience had left him so confused. He felt betrayed, like it hadn't gone down the way it should have been. Blaine blamed himself for being weak. Stephen bought him flowers afterwards too. The roses that Stephen had given him after were slowly placed in a vase near Blaine's razorblade. He'd thought about jagging the razorblade against his skin – it had been so tempting, to release the built up pain on the inside but something in Blaine told him not to, something close to faith telling him how to explain these cuts in the presence of God, this _weakness_.

"Yeah, yeah, me too." Rachel fumbled, and then whispered. "I'm so glad that you're my Tony."

Artie mentioned words about how he respected them as friends, but as their director, he was concerned. Suddenly, Blaine felt completely and utterly empty, like he would never, ever truly be perfect until he had real sex with Kurt. The thought was completely stupid, but Blaine's mind raced with thoughts. He had to be perfect, because his perfection would purge him of his sins. His perfection was the song he played that no-one heard – it was his pure and utter escape. Blaine had to say something; otherwise he'd have this idea stuck in his head all day. "But what do you mean?" Blaine calmly asked, eyes on Artie's face.

"How can you expect to open yourself up to the audience if you haven't opened yourself up to humanity's one of the most basic and primal ones?" now, Blaine was thinking about Stephen again. Stephen was then again, only acting on his 'most basic and primal' things in life, _sex_, and Blaine was unresponsive. He wanted to be chaste for a longer time, pure, pristine, but he was just filth pretending to be porcelain. Blaine blamed himself, as he always did. It was always something wrong with him. Even if everyone else were far more sinful, Blaine would always believe that there was nobody in this world as sinful as he was, as revolting, as horrendous.

After that practice, Blaine had escaped to run. He ran up the hills near where his car lay in the woods, and in there, he stared down from the view. The view was beautiful. Blaine stared down at the edge of the cliff, tempting him, mocking him. He sat down at the absolute edge, kicking his legs up in the air, just thinking of things nobody thought of, things that hurt. He thought of Stephen first, and thinking of Stephen led to thinking of sex. His heart had a slow, dull ache to it just at the memory. There was no sting, just that everlasting near-delicate pain that compressed itself in his chest, sinking slowly to his stomach. He had laid down, his skin felt warm against the sun, and he swore he can hear Kurt in the unclear distance. He was sure it was a conjuration of his mind, just as most things were. His perception of the world was simple: everything was flawlessly simple, but Blaine's profound mind had added on a thousand layers, layers all linked to how he acted, because if there was anything that shattered society, it was Blaine.

That night, he had gone over to Kurt's after Kurt had texted him. As always, he was so mentally exhausted from the self-abuse he'd inflicted on himself that he honestly did not protest. Carole pushed a plate of her "speciality meatloaf" and Blaine blinked a few times, just staring at the plate for a long time. He can remember his Mother's staple recipes – in fact, he remembered the taste of the warm, gooey honey maple and the hot, sloppy veggie burgers his Mother used to make for him.

"Carole, Blaine's a vegetarian," Kurt simply explained to why Blaine had phased out completely for those five seconds. Blaine snapped back into reality and chuckled, looking down. Kurt shook his head at this. "He's too polite to say anything."

Blaine wondered how Kurt can see _any_ good in him at all. Given the mirror, Blaine can point out all of his physical flaws. His character faults were always in front of him like a casted shadow, following him around and enforcing themselves into his thoughts. Carole had loaded a plate of leftovers from last night's Chinese with a strict apology that she didn't know. Blaine shook his head.

"It's alright, Mrs Hudson-Hummel. Anything would suffice," nothing had taste anyway because Blaine realised that he ate as quick as Hell due to his hunger these days.

He took a spoonful of the Chinese. It was scolding enough to burn most people's tongues but Blaine kept on chewing. He took a sip of the Coke on the table and kept on ploughing through the generously sized plate. That was when Burt Hummel asked that fateful question. "Why are you a veggie whatever anyway?" and Blaine just shrugged. "Something to do with animals?"

Blaine had never been so happy to have food in his mouth because he'd nodded his head. Kurt just sighed erratically. "Because being an absolute angel to humans isn't enough," Kurt had muttered, causing Blaine to flush under how complimenting Kurt's words were. After the first six bites of food, Blaine had felt a lot less lightheaded. The grey spots he'd been so accustomed to were disappearing and his head clearing completely. It was such a beautiful feeling right now.

He had gone up upstairs with Kurt promptly after dinner and they just fell into routine, with Blaine taking off his jacket to expose his white undershirt. He had opened up the radio just to dance around and be as inane as possible. Kurt made him feel that way most times, like he can do whatever he wanted in Kurt's room. "Roxy music makes me want to build a time machine just so I can go back to the seventies and give Bryan Ferry a high-five," he concentrated on the hum of the music.

Kurt looked frazzled now. In a way that Blaine had noticed. He'd noticed since dinner. He knew it himself that he didn't put on the music only because he 'felt' like it, but it was an honest distraction from what was ailing Kurt. Blaine realised that when he got truly anxious and panicky, he had to move, so he did this in the form of dancing at least because Kurt would point something out if Blaine was going to pace around the room rapidly.

Kurt finally voiced out his concerns. "Do you think I'm boring?"

Blaine found this absolutely amusing. "Are you crazy?" he still danced, because the anxiety was still riding him close to a panic attack and he knew this better than anyone, the way his body got when he was truly anxious.

"You're the single most interesting kid in all of Ohio," and with that statement, for once, came only truth. Blaine had only ensured Kurt of the absolute truth of what he thought of him, but even with that knowledge, his anxiety was still not disappearing as quickly as Blaine had hoped.

"I mean like sexually," and now, Blaine here wanted to choke completely. His throat constricted as Kurt went on. "We're playing it very safe by not grading our hands' bases to travel south of the equator."

Blaine's tentativeness showed in his speech. His weak response was, "I thought that was what we wanted."

"It _is_," Kurt's voice was frantic and high, suggesting that Kurt may be on the edge of lying or was lying, to Blaine anyway. It must not be the absolute truth at all. "I'm just wondering have you ever had the urges to rip out each other's clothes and get dirty?"

_No, no, no, I'd rather puke, _Blaine's mind retorted to himself, but he didn't know how to answer this. "Uh…yeah," he began with slight uncertainty. "But that's why they invented masturbation."

"It's hot in this room," Blaine watched Kurt fumble with his cardigan. "Can you open up a window?"

Blaine found this endearing but it did nothing to quell his jitters, as he finally stated. "I'm serious! We're young. We're in high school. And yeah, we have urges," now, he moved closer to Kurt to ensure him of this. "But yeah, whatever we do, I want to make sure that _you're_ comfortable…so _I_ can be comfortable…and besides, tearing of all of your clothes is sort of a tall order."

This was what he did sometimes. When the situation got so tense, Blaine would quip back a horrendous joke, like when Dave had shoved him in that fence and he mentioned something about Dave 'not coming out any time soon', it was to relieve the tension Blaine had built up completely and utterly in his mind. Blaine's urges were suppressed by the roar of bad memory. Yes, he wanted to do things but the thought of how that ended up with Stephen prevented him from wanting to do things. Then again, there was this empty void inside of him and sometimes, he wanted to shut that out too, to bring someone's warm body close to him. That felt so much like a sin, to let someone in like that – physically. Even someone like Kurt. _Are you sure about that, Blaine?_ No, he wasn't and the uncertainty drove him mad.

It seemed so darkly planned out. Artie meaning sex and Kurt bringing it up in the same exact day. It was a trip of bad luck it seemed. This had to be a test from God, had to be a way for redemption and dammit, Blaine would not fail it. He _could not_ fail it. If he did, it was just another way to prove how worthless and revolting he was. His lies spilled out of him. He can't very well look at Kurt and tell him _I had sex with a boy that I killed and oh, I despised it. I'm simply unlovable, Kurt. _

He was so unlovable and lonely that it killed him. He was unsure of how Kurt can love a creature like him. He didn't even know what he was anymore. He can't fathom being human.

"Because of the layers?" Kurt had broken out Blaine's concentration. It was only seconds after Blaine had said what he'd said but it felt like an eternity inside of Blaine's mind.

Blaine smiled softly, panic escalating, as he lied once more. "Because of the layers," and with that, he grabbed onto Kurt to kiss him, because that would surely let his lover forget about it. Usually, they barely kissed, mostly because Blaine was usually the initiator and Blaine couldn't bear to think of kissing a boy all of the time. It still shocked him that Kurt was a boy, that he was such a sin, but he honestly usually felt so light and happy with Kurt. Even now, just after that small kiss, Blaine's anxiety had melted as if it was a liquid at the tip of his tongue and he collapsed on to of Kurt. Kurt had smiled coyly. Blaine can never see Kurt as a sexual item before. Kurt was Kurt, a beautiful, inviting soul with a body just as soft and delicate.

He had to put his mind at rest. The cliff did not put his mind at rest. He had to. He just went to the only other place that can derive a careless joy from him no matter what – Dalton. He had passed by Amy whom just glanced at him. He seemed so perfect in grey and white, pretending like he wasn't struggling between the idea of existing and dying. He heard songs blaring out from their frequencies and followed the source of sound, until he found them – the Warblers. Their voices chimed beautifully. Blaine honestly thought they sounded so much better without him. Nick had gotten his very own solo now that Blaine was gone, that Blaine wasn't fucking everything up.

After they were done singing, their happy faces stared right at him. Nick had finished off the song and Blaine had been clapping. Nick moved towards him only to embrace him. Blaine had nearly melted into Nick's warmer arms. His voice was a high pitch of joy.

"You guys killed it as always," he truly missed Dalton. Dalton was all uniforms, nobody was anyone – Blaine didn't have to lie. They never asked him about where he came from, but even then, all they had to do was glance at him to know he was a broken boy. In McKinley, that wasn't the case. In McKinley, he had to pick out his own clothing, had to answer relentless questions about how he was and what he thought of this or that, had to lie about his parents and past constantly to the point where it was physically exhausting. The minute he had entered the Dalton halls, all of that melted. He felt an honest safety burning in the pitch of his stomach. He knew he missed them the people too. Actually, he missed them so much, because they cared. They knew parts of his story in ways Kurt didn't.

Kurt had always wondered why they fawned over Blaine so much. _You are so strong to be handling your parents' death like that, Blainey! _He'd never truly coped._ Blaine, are you okay? You look really pale. Did you eat today? Did you eat any day of this week? Oh my God, Blaaaaaaaaaine. _Jeff had snapped at him more than once. In Dalton, he maintained a proper academic, social, sleeping and eating schedule than he ever did at McKinley. He was lonely in McKinley for people other than Kurt. He didn't have to study – which was great, because there was something horrible about opening up a book in complete and utter darkness in his car with a flashlight that made him feel like he'd get caught. His sleeping and eating schedule was almost non-existent at this moment in time. Blaine was so exhausted it was almost hilarious. His cardigan was stripped horizontally just to make him look bigger, in light colours just so he can feel like there was more of him than the three layers of clothing he'd worn to hide his _lessness_, or so he'd called it as it wasn't even a real word.

"We'd sound so much better with you in the mix," Trent had simply stated, looking so convinced. "Is this your triumph in your return to Dalton? _Please?_" he seemed so desperate to hear those words, like he'd explode of delight if Blaine was really coming back. The rest of the Warblers stared at him, looking close to begging him to stay too, but Blaine knew he couldn't be here. He didn't deserve one small section of this place. If he left McKinley now, he'd have to tell Kurt everything. It was only until the end of the year then, and then Kurt would leave. Blaine was always so torn between how he felt about throwing himself out in the coldness like that, about how he had a perfectly good place at Dalton, that he didn't have to punish himself…but he always felt guilty. He always realised he must be punished. It was the only way to purge himself of his sins right now. He had to punish himself and live in the Hell he made for himself.

"Actually, I'm here to invite you guys to my opening night at McKinley," Blaine had stated, smiling weakly. "West Side Story. I reserved a whole block of tickets just for the Warblers. It'll mean the world to mean if you guys can come."

The words harboured nothing but truth. Blaine had been lying so much that he had felt completely and utterly at ease right now due to his lack of lie after lie. He had always wanted to rest from this façade he'd made for himself, this façade that he was just so happy all the time. Blaine honestly was one of the saddest thing in the world most times. He didn't like having to talk usually, just staring at the side-lines. With people like Kurt, this wasn't always the case. Sometimes, he'd babble on and Blaine would listen but most times, he'd want Blaine's opinion or thoughts on anything and Blaine would blurt out anything in fits of anxiety, in fear that whatever he'd say would displease Kurt or give him away completely, as if just the smallest wrong word would make them realise that there was something _wrong_ with him when in fact, there was nothing _right_ in him.

"We'll be there," a warm, new voice had said. Blaine looked up only to look into green eyes. "Once a Warbler always a Warbler, right?"

Everyone was cheering that boy on. Blaine felt like he was staring at a star for some reason. Blaine was being lovingly held by his shoulder by one Jeff, whom just wanted to reinforce the idea. Blaine honestly did not feel like he belonged with the Warblers at _all_ or anywhere really. Blaine felt like he was a constant waste of space floating in space, confined to just that. The Warblers all but left with a look from Sebastian, and Blaine knew that he had to leave too soon or else the Warblers would ask him questions. _How are you? Are you okay? You look sad to us, Blaine_ all mushed into one line. And Blaine cannot lie to the Warblers. He cannot bring in the life he had in McKinley mashed up with the few sources of comfort he had in his life. Here, he was sad, pristine, perfect, beautiful Blaine and Blaine wanted so hard to maintain that constant image of flawless perfection.

"Blaine Anderson," Sebastian extended his hand and Blaine took it. It was a warm hand, a soft hand. "Sebastian Smythe."

Blaine had been so lost in everything that he'd asked, "Hi! Are you a freshman?" he had not recognised Sebastian before.

Sebastian seemed to find this amusing. Blaine thought he'd had offended him but then, Sebastian so nicely quipped back, "Do I look like a freshman?"

Blaine had been at a loss for words. Sebastian offered coffee and Blaine had taken up that offer. They walked to the Lima Bean. It was the same Warbler routine. They always went to the Lima Bean after practice. They sat down together and they didn't even order coffee. "So, you're a legend at Dalton," Sebastian had finally said and Blaine's heart fluttered at being recognised when at the same time, he felt like absolute shit for taking all the glory away from the rest of the Warblers.

"Well…" Blaine wouldn't call himself a legend, but they always treated him like he was made out of fragile porcelain, as if he was made out of a shattered form of gold and diamonds, as if they were bodyguards preserving something too beautiful for words. He'd never quite felt so loved before. He didn't know how, but they managed to love someone like him – someone whom was simply unlovable.

"Don't be modest. I was like 'I don't know who this Blaine guy is' but apparently, he's sex on a stick and sings like a dream," Blaine his head in his hand as he chuckled, because he knew right then that Sebastian was not like the rest of the Warblers. He didn't see Blaine as just something that needed to be protected, that needed to shine out in display with every song, he saw him as something of complete desire. "So…sex that I miss though."

More sexual talk that Blaine wasn't prepared for. He didn't like to be thinking of himself as a siren leading men to their dismay. Maybe that was why Stephen was so adamant, why Stephen couldn't stop – Blaine had to have done something _wrong_. He had to have _provoked_ him somehow. It was the only thing that explained why Stephen was so lust-crazy before the Sadie Hawkins dance. Sebastian started talking again but Blaine honestly wasn't listening until that faithful question was asked.

"I need to ask: why did you leave Dalton? Were you bored with all the preppies around here? Or was it just that you broke too many hearts to stay?"

Blaine had honestly not even thought of a romantic incentive for that at first. He quickly thought of how Stephen's family must be furious at him, how much it hurt to think of how much burden Amy had with him, how he'd killed his _parents_, how he'd killed his _boyfriend_ – Blaine had started to nervously laugh, even go far as add 'ahaha' just to relieve the tension. "It wasn't like that," he quickly added on, because Sebastian had meant boys, breaking hearts of boys. It wasn't a lie, was it? Blaine honestly did not know. "Let's just say that I miss Dalton every day, but McKinley is where my heart is now."

He'd meant Kurt, because the rest of it made him feel so isolated, alienated and neglected. He tried to phrase all of his emotions in a way that made him appear as if he wasn't lying, but that he was just concealing some parts of the truth. He'd summarised everything in general. He didn't lie about Dalton and he didn't lie about McKinley. It was better this way.

And then they just talked, about books, music, art, sports…everything. They didn't touch the subject of Kurt once but Sebastian had made inappropriate quips all the time, and ordered him coffee. Blaine had been so shocked to taste the very drip in his mouth again. Sebastian knew his order before Blaine had a chance to speak out. Blaine looked up at Sebastian with a sudden fear in his eyes. Sebastian can read it too. Blaine wondered if he can ask about how much he knew about his parents, but Sebastian had beat him to it. "What did your parents die of?"

"Car crash," Blaine quickly said, eyes steady on Sebastian.

"Do your _friends_ at that _middle-class_ school know?" Sebastian had said it in a way as if he was mocking the idea of friendship, and Blaine had finally given in – shaking his head. He can't lie to a Dalton boy. It would be breaking the comfort he had from this place completely. Blaine was just about to leave before Sebastian had grabbed his wrist, holding it tightly. "Where are you living? No cheap, revolting public school has dorms so don't try to fool me."

Blaine shut his eyes. Sebastian knew too much already so he just spat it out. "My car."

Sebastian had finally laughed, like it was some sort of joke. "A boy that can afford to be in Dalton living in a car?" he said as if it was the most ludicrous thing in the world.

"I ran away," Blaine whispered. "Amy gives me money. She's honestly done dealing with me and I wouldn't blame her. I'm not her—"

"You're her nephew and she's a whore for thinking that she can get away with letting a kid live in a—" and then Sebastian recognised the emotion on Blaine's face. "Wait, she doesn't know, does she? Does anyone know that the almighty Blaine Anderson now lives in a busted up vehicle? What the _hell_ do you eat? _Jesus Christ. Blaine, fucking look at me."_

Blaine did, and that was when he saw a pair of sympathetic green eyes. He knew it himself that Sebastian truly did care about him, in way that most people wouldn't, that there was something deeper than the shallow lust he was conveying a few moments later. Blaine can see it in his mind, them telling Sebastian all about Blaine, marvelling about how perfect Blaine was – Sebastian had felt attached to a fantasy. The idea of Blaine Anderson seemed such an illusion to Blaine himself. Sebastian had pulled out a check book and Blaine grabbed onto his wrist. "No," was Blaine's simple plea. "Not your money."

"Don't worry. It's my Father's," Sebastian rolled his eyes as he opened the check book. Blaine had snatched the book from Sebastian's hand.

"No," Blaine said, more adamantly this time. "I don't need your money."

"Of course. You need to starve to death and die outside in the cold, shattering rain like a horror novel, huh? Is that what you want?" Blaine hadn't said anything because _yes, that was what he deserved. _In that moment, Blaine had chuckled because he'd just realised that in the two hours he'd known Sebastian for, he knew more about him than anyone else, just because he asked the right questions and Blaine can't lie to any boy in a Dalton blazer. He can't. It would mean bringing in his sinful nature in a place that was almost like home. Sebastian said something about lacrosse and more insights from him, just to get him to come over. Blaine had known this. Sebastian had figured out the game he was playing moments ago, that there was no way that Blaine would meet up with Sebastian again if it meant having to hear Sebastian lecture him all of the time.

Just spending that time with Sebastian made Blaine believe that all he wanted to do was prove him wrong, so he did. He had gone off to the first supermarket he could and then he just shoved in food. He remembered that that his parents used to buy him organic hazelnut spread, and he found the brand – for a jar, it was nearly fifteen dollars. He still bought it anyway, like he wasn't poor and the sixty he had for emergencies was reduced to forty-five. He'd picked up a package of stolen plastic spoons from the school cafeteria and in his car, he just ate. He consumed the whole jar, all of its near three thousand calories all at once, and then he drove. He drove back to his pitiful home after the high was over with. Then his stomach hurt him horribly. He can't stand it. In the middle of the road, he'd only driven to the nearest place he knew – Kurt's house was literally a two minute drive and there were no restaurants there that he can go to. When Finn had answered the door, Blaine lunged for the bathroom, walking past Kurt whom stared at him inquisitively. Blaine had managed to make it through toward the bathroom. He had collapsed in front of the toilet bowl and just threw up the contents of his stomach.

"Blaine!" Kurt called out. He sounded so concerned.

Blaine wondered why. He brought this on himself, so stupidly as he violently retched. He'd held his hand just to steady himself. It was only then had he realised that his skin was feverish. After he was done throwing up, Blaine's first concern was to pull his sleeves back down so that Kurt would not feel how feverish his skin was. Kurt had helped him by his upper arms and had pulled him up. "Blaine, are you okay? Do you need to throw up again?" the amount of concern Kurt had for him.

Blaine just shook his head, and to compact Kurt's concern for him, he had simply chuckled. "That is the last time I'm trusting pre-packaged food," but Kurt had shaken his head, pulling him away from the toilet after he'd flushed. Blaine had honestly blurted out, "I think I'll just head home. Sorry for…the mess…in your—"

"Blaine Devon Anderson, you are sitting down for at least another hour and are drinking something warm and if you keep that down, then I _may_ just let you leave," Kurt had finally decided, as he told Blaine to sit down on the couch. Blaine's first priority was reminding himself of how _stupid_ he was, how relentlessly stupid he was. He should've knelt down and puked out in the bushes or the bins, but he can't bear to think of that and Kurt's house had been so close. He didn't think of the consequences and now, he was trying to cover up food poisoning with a caring, loving Kurt. How could he dare stay here? He didn't deserve Kurt, and he honestly didn't deserve the love and care Kurt was going to give him because he purposely made himself sick. It was he who bought the jar, it was he who insisted on finishing a jar with some form of bacteria growing inside in one day and it was he who wasted his money on such just because he felt the need to 'prove Sebastian wrong'.

He sat down and watched as Kurt graced him with a warm cup of tea. He hadn't had tea in so long that he was almost happy he threw up in the Hudmels' bathroom. Blaine took the cup from Kurt's hand, and before he can cover up his fever, Kurt's hand had went to feel how feverish his skin was. Now, he had to stay in that stupid car for the next three days as a 'sick day'. Blaine can bet it would be three days that he had to spend the forty-five dollars he had. He can't go to 'dinner' with any of the Warblers…but Sebastian. Sebastian knew everything. If he so casually showed up at the doorstep of his household after the day was done with, then he'd be welcomed with open arms, but something about that made him want to puke. Whilst there were dorms, Nick and Jeff preferred to go back home. They were long drives. A part of him now wondered if Sebastian would be the type to sit down in a dorm room, no matter how lavish it was.

After Kurt had made him drink the tea, he finally felt guilty because Kurt didn't know Sebastian even existed. Sebastian had erected an extreme response from Blaine in hours. Blaine had told a good part of his story to a stranger. Not Kurt even, a complete and utter stranger. Not just any of the Warblers – a _stranger_.

"How are you feeling?" Carole had asked him, sitting down beside him and he nodded his head towards her. "You should take care of yourself.. Do you want me to call your parents and tell them you're spending the night?"

A fire caught into Blaine's throat. "No, it's fine," he finally decided after a while. "No amount of persuasion will let them stay the night on a school day, even if I'm sick. I'll…I can drive back home. It's not a long ride." Every single word had some sort of lie in it. His entire world was made out of deception. He can't believe himself. Firstly, he'd told his life story to a boy he didn't even know. Secondly, he had lied to Kurt all of this time. Thirdly, the boy he loved knew next to nothing about him because Blaine didn't like to talk about his shattered past, because then he'd have to lie again and Blaine despised the dishonesty more so already. He was such a sham, a fraud. He hated it. He hated it so badly.

"Are you sure?" Carole had asked, concern littering in her voice.

Blaine had nodded his head but Kurt shook his head. "At least let me drive you back—"

"No," Blaine didn't mean to sound as harsh as he did. "I can do it myself, Kurt. All I did was puke. I'm fine."

"You have a fever."

"It is _not_ going to affect my driving," Blaine added on. Kurt had finally given in, mostly because he didn't like the tone that Blaine was using with him. Blaine had driven back to his so-called home to lay down there. He felt so dissociated from the events of today. It was finally hitting him how Sebastian knew too much about him. He threw up again and then, did it really hit him what he'd told Sebastian, and then he was hyperventilating from the sheer panic that built up in his chest. He had his arms around him and shook his head. _Stupid boy! How dare you tell Sebastian anything? How dare you lie to Kurt's face? How dare you! _

He wanted to laugh at just how much of a plastic life he'd had with Kurt, how he made himself feel so damn perfect, but he was sick. He was honestly sick of everything building up in his body. He was sick of being a disappointment. He was sick of shattering everything that was good in his life. He was just plain sick. His pain did not justify his crimes. His pain did not justify anything.

The next few days he made it back to Dalton. He had gone off to find Sebastian because he was honestly panicking. He hid himself away by hats and his Mother's Chanel glasses. His Father's jacket still smelled like his Father. Blaine did not even remember why he packed these things. He can just go back home. Back home, nothing was changed, shifted. It was just an empty home with no owner. Blaine really wanted a bed right now as well, but he didn't deserve the memories of that house. He felt like if he walked into that house, it would be the last straw to his insanity. He'd have to face his parents were truly gone – the last time he was in that house, they were eating spaghetti with flavourful sauce and vegetarian meatballs. They had been laughing and watching _Bones_. If he went there and they weren't there, Blaine honestly thought he would go _insane_. How dare he believe that he can be in a relationship without the obstacles of parents in the way?

Kurt might want to see them one day. What would he do then? Nothing. He can do nothing but either confess or spit out another lie, probably about them barely being in the country, then that would make them seem like God-awful parents. Blaine felt like he'd rather die than have Kurt know who he really was. Kurt might never truly accept him then. He wouldn't blame him. Kurt would realise he had been dating nothing more than a murderer, a sinner, a horrible man playing the role of a saint, a perfectionist driven by an impossible unattainable ideal of perfectionism. Kurt was in love with the illusion – an idea – of Blaine Anderson. Blaine was convinced that Kurt barely knew him, but convinced he was in love with him.

Blaine knew he was in love with Kurt. He knew everything about him – how his soft skin felt like underneath his touch, his favourite colour was grey because it reminded him of rain, and he actually hated the way he smiled – but Blaine loved it. He loved _everything_ about him. Even the qualities most people would find infuriating about Kurt, Blaine found those to make him the most astounding person in the world, because those qualities made him human; flawed. Blaine can never truly see Kurt as flawed. He was a diamond, as simple as that, perfect.

Blaine had Kurt texting him a few times and Blaine told him that he was fine, when in fact he'd never felt so sick in his life. It was not because of the ailment in question but the fact that he had to get up every one of the days he'd been out sick just to bathe in cold water, do his laundry, try to do his assignments, having to walk over in the cold weather wearing minimal clothing carrying around his laptop back just so he can email teachers about how he needed them to give him his assignments and to do the ones that needed internet – Blaine refused to fall back behind. He _had_ to be perfect.

After four days, Blaine had had enough. He was never hungry but his stomach was tearing him from inside out for not eating at all in those four days. Walking with a fever in cold weather made him feel even worse. He was still so very tired, so sick, but he needed to eat something and he was not going to use the rest of his forty-five dollars after the fact that he'd used money had landed him in this mess. Tomorrow, he'll go to school, he'd see Kurt, he'd laugh and inspire him to live his life, and then he was going to leave and never come back because this was ludicrous. He had been going back and forth from here to Dalton but he knew that he can't keep this up anymore.

Blaine had gone off that school day so normally. He had complimented people, and smiled at people. He seemed so joyful and delighted about just mere existing. In his heart, he knew he was aching because he wanted to leave. He was tired of being a complete lie, he was tired of deceiving Kurt, and he was just so—

The thought broke off when Kurt approached him right after school. "If you see any Rachel campaign posters, feel free to tear them down." He looked exhausted, pressed up against that locker. It was Kurt whom was blowing up his cell phone with so many messages about how he felt, and even this morning when he told him he was coming to school. Blaine believed he must've seemed like he'd recovered from a miracle with how he acted, such a joy to be around at this current moment in time.

_Tell him that you're leaving McKinley. I dare you to look up to his face and tell him you need to leave._ Blaine finally decided that he couldn't. He couldn't leave. He'd been so confident – he'd have nearly told Kurt some parts of his story, about his parents, about how he'd felt like he needed to leave…but now, he couldn't. He shrunk back in that little hole instead of himself. Now, he was just scared of Kurt finding out.

"Do you believe that we're too sheltered as artists?" Kurt had stared at him strangely. "West Side Story is all about living outside of your safe little world. Don't you wanna wake up every day and be adventurous? Experience everything in life when you can."

Blaine felt sick again. He knew why he said all of those words. _Not because I'm living in my car anymore. Not because I have no shelter. Not because I don't have a world to be safe in. Not because I don't wake up every day, wanting to just be normal. _Blaine had honestly felt like he'd experienced enough in his life. He just wanted to have a nice family dinner with people telling each other about their tedious lives right now. Blaine had said all of those words because he'd felt like Kurt was getting close to finding out, so he had to deter him away, so the first thing on his mind was a West Side Story reference.

"Of course," Kurt was actually so engrossed in what Blaine was saying he barely noticed the look of distress that was planted on Blaine's face at the moment. "That's why I made a bucket list…okay…you ready for this?" he pulled out his phone and Blaine saw a bunch of senseless things. To anyone else, this would've made Blaine realise how stupid or insane they were but for Kurt, it was just so endearing, so…different. It was like every quality Blaine hated in people he didn't mind if he found it in Kurt.

"Yeah, I know. It's stupid. It's stupid." The fact that Kurt thought of it that way hurt him a bit, because there was literally nothing Kurt can do that can be stupid. Blaine was honestly glad that their conversation went from Blaine's weird speech to this…that he hadn't given himself away. He was honestly so exhausted mentally and physically right now. His muscles hurt, his head hurt and all he wanted to do was sleep, sleep, sleep, and all of the turmoil of telling Kurt and not telling Kurt…the daily struggle that impended him from day one was still so fresh on his mind. He was so close, so _close_ to ending all of it, the lying, the pain…everything.

He didn't, because he was a coward, because he ran away from Dalton, because he was _still_ running.

"It's not," Blaine had said and he was honest. His eyes glittered and to add on some cheeriness to his tone. "It's hot."

"But anyway, we're young so we've got all the time in the world to be adventurous," and Blaine wanted to tell him that was right, but then his mind flashed to Stephen's body, lying there, on the cold ground, dead. Had barely done anything in his life. His fingers had twitched. He didn't want Kurt to think like that. He didn't want Kurt to be bombarded for a word of possibilities.

"Don't you think now is the time to be adventurous? While we're still young?" Blaine quickly added on. He was amazed he had gone through that without mentioning Stephen at all. He had left quickly afterwards. Now, that he was thinking about it, he can imagine a dead Kurt, lying down the ground…so lifelessly, in Stephen's place. It hurt him. It hurt him just as sharply as the pain he'd felt when he realised that Stephen was dead. He'd never been there to see his parents' death. He didn't know how he felt about it still. He was completely tip-toeing. His emotions were a chaotic mess. He simply felt too much all at once right now. He didn't know how to feel about anything any longer. He had turned in his assignments, actually ate a lunch he kept down, had stowed away a few pieces of food from the cafeteria in his bag for later and had spent most of the night asleep.

Then Sebastian texted him so that was when Blaine had finally broke. The next time, Sebastian had actually paid for the coffee himself, and at Blaine's state, he looked enraged. "Do those whores at McKinley know how shit you look like or are they really _that_ fucking blind?"

Blaine shrugged and then saw Sebastian sit down beside him. Sebastian looked so angry that it wasn't even funny. He got Blaine a muffin for him to eat. Blaine tried to suppress how happy it was, made it seem like it was an everyday thing that he was given food and then Sebastian stared at him for the longest of time. "You're _sick_," Sebastian said, realising this in an instant just from how shit Blaine looked. Blaine honestly hadn't bothered even fixing his bowtie or properly gelling his hair. Some parts of his hair stuck out. He felt like he was the definition of chaotic. "You are, aren't you?"

"Food poisoning." Blaine quickly murmured.

Sebastian looked completely attentive right now. "How long has this food poisoning lasted?"

Blaine had shut his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Two weeks."

"No fucking way," Sebastian finally snapped "No, fucking way. What the hell are you doing? Eating the same spoilt food day in and day out? There has to be something. What have you been doing? Baby, you are as _gorgeous_ as hell, always, but you look like you're about to puke your guts out. Come on, Bee, look at me." Blaine did at this moment, smiling weakly.

Sebastian shook his head. "You and I are gonna go to the Doctor after this. I will book an appointment. Believe me. My Father will make it happen."

Blaine couldn't even protest or agree because Sebastian didn't give him that option. He picked up his phone and booked that appointment like he owned Blaine. Blaine was honestly impressed by how much Sebastian cared about this stupid stranger, then he realised that this was just like Blaine helping Kurt. Sebastian was honestly just trying to help him at this moment. Yes, he would want to sleep with him, but it didn't mean that Sebastian spent all day quipping sexual comments – even though that was exactly what he was doing via text at this current moment in time.

"Thank you, Sebastian." Blaine whispered.

"For doing what those fuckers should've done _months_ ago? How about no?" Sebastian responded. "Besides, I can't fuck you when you're sick."

Blaine smiled weakly. Sebastian was masking the true and honest care with these quips it seemed. They drank coffee silently. Sebastian took him out that night to his house for dinner. It was so big and perfect that Blaine honestly wanted to stay there forever. It didn't make him so nostalgic of home. Home was all cosiness, blankets, love, and honey maple cookies sitting out in the counter. Sebastian's house only reminded him of a catalogue. It was so vast that Blaine felt like he'd get lost in it. Sebastian's Father, Jean Smythe, had given one look at Blaine before he rose his eyebrow. "Sebastian, bringing in the sick now, are we? You better not be banging him either. I refuse to take you to a Doctor for an ailment you purposely contracted."

Sebastian just shrugged and then grabbed onto Blaine's hand. "I'm not going to sleep with him. This one isn't willing and you know I can't rape him."

"I'm honestly surprised that you have some morals." Jean rolled his eyes.

Sebastian just snorted and picked up one of the fluffy-looking brownies on the table to give to Blaine. Sebastian had taken Blaine upstairs after feeding him three brownies and in the lit room, Blaine found a scale. Whilst Sebastian talked to his Mother, Blaine had found the drive to finally step on it just to know what damage had been done to his body. He hopped on the digital device and grimaced at the number. How he'd managed to lose twelve pounds in two weeks was beyond his capability and understanding. He was edging one-fifty-one again. This used to be an okay weight, all of these weights were fine but Blaine was honestly sick of thinking of seeing the number go any lower. Another feeling overcame Blaine in that instant. _Why should there be more of you anyway? You are a collective waste of space. It's better if you just die. _Blaine had hopped off that scale, and then in his sadness, found a sick smile resting on his face.

_Are you insane? Say you lose fifty pounds? You think Kurt is going to be happy with you weighing a hundred pounds? _But Blaine wanted to laugh. Kurt simply won't notice unless he touched him, would he? Sebastian had finally laid on his bedside and gestured for Blaine to move towards him. Blaine didn't like how this felt like – like Stephen again, but with a taller, thinner version of him. Blaine slowly moved towards him and curled up in Sebastian's arm.

In that moment, Sebastian finally admitted. "Blaine, I've never been in a bed and not had sex with that person," he gave off a smirk at this moment. He pulled Blaine close and lifted up his chin just to stare at him. "This…this…is nice," he finally admitted.

Blaine finally relaxed. "I like this."

Whatever _this_ was, it was nice, just to be held like that. With the stress of New York, Kurt had forgotten to do that in a long time – maybe Blaine would remember it again, because Kurt was still one of the softest skins he'd ever touched. Sebastian leaned down to kiss Blaine's forehead. Blaine felt anxious now, his muscles tensing, because he realised that if Sebastian did anything to him, Blaine wouldn't be able to stop him, because Blaine couldn't bear the _thought_ of saying no. "Calm down, Bee. I'm not gonna rape you."

Blaine wanted to ask a million questions. The first one being: _is it rape if you deserved it? _But instead, he chose to stay in silence.

* * *

_xo Peanut Butter/Sam_


	3. Chapter 3

_yup. this story isn't dead. none of my stories are ever dead. they're just forgotten for a bit._

_to **anderpson, **Seblaine and i have a love affair. it's sad because i feel like sometimes this is leading to Seblaine and then i remember - oh no, Klaine, okay. xD. to **PenMagic**, Sebastian will always be around as he is my child. and awwww if you feel for Blaine then i must be doing something right. i can easily write 14,000 words in a week but sometimes it depends on how inspired i am and considering im also writing a novel, i don't to spend all my time on fanfiction. ;) and here's the next chapter - obviously. to **matchbookjealousy**, aww, i bet all the Blangst loves you too! :) xD awwww here's the next one then. i'm trying to update this more often but i just get so depressed because i have to rewatch those episodes again and jolt down everything the character is doing/what they're saying to be able to write one. this one is still set in 3x05, so that's why im just like "...when can this episode be over" considering i have to try and find the perfect way to illustrate Blaine's emotions without going overboard on the whole thing. plus i keep using the same words - but there are no other words. :P_

**_Warnings for eating disorder, rape, suicidal thoughts/depression, overly religious!Blaine, possibly will escalate into cutting and feels of guilty. As always, this is pretty descriptive so this may be trigger-y._**_ also before anyone says anything: it may seem Blaine is developing an ED so fast, but in truth, he isn't developing one - Blaine is relapsing from something he had only a year ago. it would progress faster than him (because i hated how Marley's 'ED' was portrayed considering she learned too much too fast versus someone like Blaine, whom had an ED and is just relapsing back to old habits. he doesn't have to learn the basics or be introduced to something new. ALSO, you did see Blaine mention food a couple of times before his chapter, his confliction with it and besides, he did just recover from an illness that required a lot of throwing up which can also be another trigger to the situation. just be aware before you judge the piece, i thought i was doing it too quickly too but then i realised that a relapse is not the same as developing something. _

* * *

Chapter 3

* * *

They got to the Doctor's the following day. Blaine didn't know how it happened but apparently, Sebastian had already had everything arranged for him. He texted him that morning. The same morning, Blaine had texted Kurt to complain about having to go for a routine medical check-up, then adding in the details about how his parents forced him to go to the Doctor's every few months for a real full examination – this one wasn't actually a lie. After the Sadie Hawkins, they had discovered that Blaine's injuries were not only physical ones, but he had so many deficiencies in his diet. They wanted to make sure he stayed healthy after the _hell_ that was the Sadie Hawkins dance. He can imagine him being five-foot-six again and scared, hidden behind those sheets, with that busted up kneecap and his arm in a sling. He can still taste the blood on his lips.

Funny thing about all those injuries was Blaine didn't even feel them really at the time of the attack – the real hysteria was trying to get to Stephen in time. His mind was consumed about Stephen the whole time that he didn't even feel the real impact of the pain. He didn't care about how much he was bleeding – all he cared about was Stephen. He was so scared that Stephen was going to die, and then he would have nobody at all; nobody to love him like Stephen did. He had been so scared, so paralysed, and all he can think about was how his childhood sweetheart was joking and laughing when all Blaine can do was panic himself to death. Death. Blaine wished he had died on that night instead of Stephen. He had no purpose to give to the world. His existence was futile, long and too much of a strain.

The Doctor's brought back a lot of those memories at the Sadie Hawkins dance. Sebastian sat across him, reading a magazine issue that came out months ago and Blaine was staring at him for the longest of times, fidgeting as uncomfortably as possible. They suspected intolerances and since Blaine's family had a history of lactose intolerance, he was tested for that.

Considering he just had food poisoning, he could very well have built up an intolerance to milk. Blaine had to drink a solution of milk and they took a blood sample. Sebastian was a very good sport and made minimal comments. Blaine had noticed that Sebastian held his hand when his blood was being drawn. Even though Blaine had no fear of needles considering how many of them he'd seen during the Sadie Hawkins incident, he couldn't help but feel a small pang of gratitude in his stomach. Unfortunately, Blaine ended up throwing that milk solution quite quickly as well. It was getting frustrating.

When Blaine was ready to leave, Sebastian made him stay when they were running blood results. Blaine thought he had to wait for at least a week, but apparently, again – Sebastian mentioned his Father. Apparently, Blaine did built up a severe form of lactose intolerance to the point where even the lowest amounts of milk made him throw up. The Doctor thought that this would probably go away after a while and they'll give him a little milk every month to see if Blaine can go back to ingesting it. Blaine didn't care about facts and figures. All he knew was that he was stupid enough to ingest a whole jar of that spread and give himself _Salmonella_ food poisoning for stupid reasons. All he blamed was himself.

All Blaine can think about was how he'd wasted Sebastian's money and time and how he had made Sebastian worry over nothing. Sebastian didn't seem to care though and told him that they were going to go have coffee. Blaine thought this was not a very good idea as they can run into Kurt and as far as Kurt knew, he had a Doctor's appointment so being seen with Sebastian would surely make Kurt ask far too many questions about his 'actual whereabouts' and he'd have to lie. He lied far too much already and he didn't feel like lying anymore but he knew that as long as he attended McKinley, people had to hear lie after lie about things that Blaine knew weren't the least bit true. He hated that Kurt had to hear those lies as well, that he couldn't be true to his own boyfriend about anything.

All of his instincts told him it was stupid to go to the Lima Bean but he owed Sebastian, especially after what he did for him. Yet again, Sebastian had turned to buy Blaine his medium drip coffee – excluding the muffin this time. Blaine cannot suppress how happy he was for the fact that this would probably be one of the few things he did keep down in those two weeks he had been throwing up things. Blaine didn't feel as queasy as normal, which was a good sign already. He heard out Sebastian's order and tightened the button on his grey jacket.

"I can't believe you asked for a shot of Courvoisier in your coffee," Blaine finally said when Sebastian had picked up his order. He can't believe how gleeful he was about that little thing. Sebastian astounded him in ways he can't really understand.

"I forget how lame this town is," Sebastian had begun. Sebastian sat down, looking too proud of himself. "When I lived in Paris, I drank it like it was Mother's milk."

Blaine was staring at Sebastian, trying to process what he had just said. "When you lived in…" Blaine hesitantly sat down beside him. He knew he should look for signs of the New Directions but his eyes were too mesmerised by Sebastian right now. He thought it would be rude if he made it seem like he wanted to be somewhere else right then and he owed it to Sebastian. "Okay. Wow."

"What?" Sebastian didn't seem to get how…different he was from other people. Blaine had yet to decide if that was good or bad yet. He was actually thinking of leaning down to kiss Sebastian right now just to taste the Courvoisier in his tongue. That was all he wanted to do right now, but he restrained himself to that fantasy. He couldn't cheat on Kurt. It was a sin, he reminded himself, even though he can feel this sense of freedom with Sebastian. Blaine realised it was probably because Kurt didn't know anything. Blaine hated himself for it, but he can't tell Kurt the truth, after he kissed him, after all they've been through together. It was making Blaine panic just running over how many lies he'd told Kurt, about never having a boyfriend, never being anyone's anything, but he was. He made himself look like a victim but in the end, he was the evil one in this whole twisted ploy.

Until now, only Blaine knew his whole story. To Kurt, he was just this naïve boy that wanted to know how it felt like to love. To the Warblers, he was this optimistic orphan. To Sebastian, he was this orphan that ran away and didn't have a home. Right now, Sebastian knew the most about him and it was too strange, because Sebastian and him barely knew each other. They had three coffee dates – including this one, and whilst their conversations lasted several hours, all Blaine felt like was that something was wrong. He was giving parts of himself away to a complete stranger it seemed.

Blaine knew that at some point, he probably had to lie to Sebastian too but he the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to projectile vomit. Dalton was his home. He couldn't bring his sins or all of those horrible things about himself in it. In Dalton, he was just this lost little boy in a uniform that couldn't find his English class on the first day and locked himself in a bathroom until a student named Nick Duval found him. He wanted so desperately to be that little lost boy again, counting tiles on the clean Dalton bathroom floors and thinking about Stephen. At least when he thought about Stephen, he felt human because of how guilty he was. He was always guilty. He still was guilty, but as long as Blaine lived. He thought it wasn't guilty enough.

"You're just so—you know, you're out there," Blaine finally said. He can hear how breathless he was. He knew Sebastian could too. He knew that the brunette was constraining himself and that he probably wanted to lean in and kiss him too. Blaine wanted to be kissed by him so bad but the thoughts of Kurt weighed him down with guilt. Why was he feeling this lust? Why did he want to do things with Sebastian? He didn't want to emotionally be attached to him. He just wanted to physically feel him close to him. He wanted Sebastian to have sex with him, to slap him around and call him a whore, to remind him of what he actually was. A sinner. Blaine thought he wouldn't care at all because of how much he wanted Sebastian in that very moment.

"And your whole bashful schoolboy thing? Super-hot."

That just made the want worse. Blaine had to collect himself for a few moments, as his mind flashed to Kurt in distant grey and white flashes. His heart was beating and his palms were sweating from anxiety and this time, he can't stand up and pace around the coffee shop without looking like a maniac. Blaine took a deep breath and then finally said. "Look, Sebastian, I have a boyfriend." He felt a twinge of guilt for saying it too, because he felt like the thoughts that were consuming him a seconds ago probably made him the worst boyfriend ever. He didn't want to want to have sex with anyone but Kurt, but Kurt was his angel. He didn't want to ruin him with his sins. Sebastian was all sin, all the wild things, and Blaine tried to be as pure as possible. He knew that if he and Sebastian had sex just once, or came close to it, Blaine would just kill himself. He can't handle the weight of those sins, of seeing Kurt hurt, of seeing Sebastian in pain if Blaine left or screamed – he can see Stephen's confused, betrayed face in his mind. He can feel all of those insults from the Sadie Hawkins dance hitting him full-force, _you're a slut, Blainey, you're a fucking slut _rolling around in his mind in those few moments that Sebastian had said what he said.

He remembered how he felt like with Kurt, pure, light, pristine and completely perfect. Even thinking about his angel just brought back good memories, like warmth, and kisses and those hugs that made Blaine's body burst from all of the security that he felt. When Blaine thought of Kurt, he was solely focused on Kurt. There was nothing else he can think of. It was like the thought of all of the feelings Kurt had given him sent him into enough of a spiral to make himself forget the world. Kurt was his art, his escape, and when he had just reminded himself of this, his heart twisted at how he had forgotten that for those few seconds of lust that welled up in his body. Not his heart, his body. His heart only yearned for his angel, for his Kurt. All he needed was Kurt.

With that thought in his mind, Blaine finally composed himself. Sebastian just looked at Blaine with the strongest eyes. "Doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you."

It was incentive for sin. Blaine can feel it. He can already feel Sebastian's mouth on his skin. He can already feel all of it, like he can feel Stephen's smile still in his mind and see how those brown eyes shone. It made him want to cry. However, all of that was blocked by the thought of how blue Kurt's eyes were. He thought of seeing him cry and he literally can't take the image. "No," Blaine adamantly stated. "I _really_ care about him."

Sebastian seemed to find that as no problem. "He doesn't need to know."

A pool of nervousness filled Blaine's chest. His lust had melted away and his feelings of Kurt had too. The only thing he felt like was powerless in that second, like he felt like with Stephen on top of him and Blaine being able to do nothing. Blaine suddenly feared doing something stupid and ruining everything with Kurt over small fragments of lust he felt for Sebastian. He suddenly can feel how confused and scared he felt after he and Stephen had done it, wondering if he was only supposed to bleed the first time or if he was supposed to bleed all the time. He wanted answers but he couldn't ask anyone about anything. He didn't know how to react and he didn't want to ever think that Stephen had done anything wrong. Blaine must have made him go insane with lust. It must be something he'd done, what he's warn, his body language and the fact that their kissing session were so heated. All of that confusion, fear and panic suddenly filled Blaine. He knew that logically he can't be held down by Sebastian in the middle of a public coffee shop and he should have trusted Sebastian more especially after Sebastian had done so much to help him but he couldn't. It was like a part of him just denied that ability to trust people no matter how much Blaine wanted to.

"I just never want to mess my thing up with him," Blaine was going to talk right now, talk far too much because he was panicking. "Anyway, he's really great—"

He can feel something over him, a looming shadow and now, his fear was multiplied even more. He wondered if it was someone that Sebastian hired to drag Blaine away if he didn't comply but he heard that beautiful voice of his angel. Instead of being soothed, all he can do was panic even more, thoughts of Kurt screaming at him, finding out everything and thoughts of hearing those words he heard at the Sadie Hawkins dance was making Blaine feel paralysed.

"Who's really great?"

Blaine heard no contempt or anger in Kurt's voice, just confusion, which made him calm down enough to actually answer Kurt' question. "A…you!" he sounded way too frantic in his mind. "We were talking about you. Sebastian, this is _Kurt_, my _boyfriend_, who I was just…"

Sebastian can sense his anxiety enough to nod his head at Blaine. "Got it." Kurt had extended his hand to shake Sebastian's but Blaine can nearly feel the rivalry. He can feel like his worlds were shattering. Sebastian that knew enough of his past and Kurt, whom knew near to nothing about it, shaking hands together. He was suddenly afraid Sebastian would go into a detailed account of the fact that Blaine was living in a car and scream at the New Directions for not noticing that Blaine was throwing up everything incessantly for two weeks.

Blaine laughed to try and calm down the tension. In reality, all Blaine can think about was how much he just wanted to pace or dance. Usually, he can cover up his anxiety by dancing but it would be stupid to bust a move in the middle of a coffee shop. "And how do we know Sebastian?" Blaine was paralysed by that question. Even though Kurt was saying a normal question, all Blaine can think about was the lust he had for Sebastian and feeling like Kurt was going to break up with him. All roads in his head led to the same thing, horror, a break-up and Blaine with an even more chaotic life than he had before.

Sebastian seemed to note Blaine's severe anxiety yet again and had answered for him. "We met at Dalton. Was dying to meet Blaine. Those Warblers just won't shut up about him. Didn't think he'd live up to the hype but as it turns out."

"Yes, he's even more impressive in the flesh," Kurt had sat down beside him, placing an arm around Blaine in the most protective manner. Blaine had then realised that Kurt's coldness was not towards him, but it was towards Sebastian. That coldness was not true coldness. It was coldness that masked pure envy. Blaine may know that envy was a sin, but all he can think about was how relieved he was that Kurt wasn't spiting him, but was being as spiteful as he can to Sebastian when still coming off as sophisticated and charming. Kurt had always managed to be completely effortlessly perfect, even when he was angry – he seemed to be perfectly content with the world. It was that kind of amazement that crawled under Blaine's skin and never left, the kind of astonishment that blew him away for those few moments and he didn't even realise he existed, just that he was lucky enough to observe this enchanting cherub.

"Hey, what are you guys doing tomorrow night?"

Blaine knew that question – it was one that surged right through him. All he can think about is _nothing with you and Kurt in the same room, nothing with you and Kurt in the same room, nothing with Kurt and you in the same room _repeating over and over in his head. He can't help but feel the dread pooling into his chest, condensing without any warning, as Blaine realised that Sebastian knew far too much and when he trusted Sebastian than most people, he didn't trust him enough to leave him alone with Kurt. The fear was gnawing into his skin, tearing him inside out to the point where he felt like throwing up, but due to Blaine's fortune, he had actually stopped vomiting after cutting out the lactose. He wished he would, just to get Kurt to take him away from Sebastian and avoid this conversation all together. The remorse weighed heavy with Blaine's heart. With Kurt and Sebastian sitting there together, all Blaine felt like was a constant betrayal to Kurt's honour and beauty. He had Kurt so how dare he feel anything for anyone else? Even if it was the smallest hint of lust. Lust was a sin. It drove people mad. Kurt was devoid of that sin.

Kurt may be flawed with envy, but flawless with lust. He was a gem on his own, reflecting off certain lights too brightly and hiding away jaded parts that nobody really could notice. At least that was what it seemed like to Blaine. "Well, we're rehearsing for the school musical and at bedtime, we're doing a rigorous skin-sloughing regime over the phone together."

Blaine's heart nearly flipped over. He remembered those regimes were one of the worst things in the world – not because of the content, but because Blaine feared that there would be a small animal intruding that night, or teenagers mindlessly thinking that they can fuck wherever they want. Blaine had seen so much sex at those nights, hidden behind his car, pretending to be asleep as he heard two lovers have sex with each other. He had heard of break-ups, and seen strange creatures where he lived. It had been so frustrating at first, but now, all of that was pushed back into Blaine's mind. It didn't matter. It just became a part of his life.

Sebastian looked completely unimpressed with this. "And as sexy as that sounds, what do we say we shake things up? I can get you guys a couple of fake IDs and we can head over to Scandals in West Lima."

Blaine had tried to maintain complete and utter apathy, considering that Sebastian can pinpoint wherever he felt anxious. Whilst he was internally freaking out, he was conscious of his body language and facial expression and tried to look as uninterested as possible, as he explained to Kurt, "Scandals…that's the gay bar."

Of course, Blaine had heard of it. He'd heard things about it. The Warblers jokingly told him that he should try to score a date there and they were all laughing about it, and Blaine had laughed with them. He had never in his life intended to set a foot near Scandals in his life, so this was why the proposition was even less appealing than usual, especially since it meant that Kurt and Sebastian would be together in a setting that involved alcohol and Blaine didn't need his 4.0 GPA to tell him that that was horrid.

"The last time I was there, I met the man of my dreams on the dance floor," Sebastian tried to coax him, but it was the way he talked that made Blaine want to do things with him. Sebastian was this wild fantasy people masturbated to, a guilty something, something they knew they would regret but can't help thinking about. Right now, Blaine's eyes were on Sebastian's lips. He felt so much guilt already, considering Kurt was right next to him, holding his hand and clinging onto him. All Blaine felt like was filthy, tainted – dirty somehow. He needed to be purged, cleansed, perfect, but whenever he tried to be perfect, his character fucked it all up. He was horrible. He would never cleanse any of his sins, never be perfect – he would never enjoy true light, or hope, because he didn't deserve any of it.

Kurt's voice was dripping with fake pleasantness. "That's so sweet. And are you two still together?"

Sebastian seemed to think about this, as he then explained the rest of the story with a smirk that seemed to grow with every word. "Sadly no. We broke up about twenty minutes after we met," and after that, his eyes glittered under the lights. Sebastian was a beautiful thing, but he was so corrupted. Blaine can feel all of the corruption in the air, hung around like some sort of perfume. A gut instinct told Blaine that being with Sebastian would only screw up everything he had with Kurt and bring him misery. "Come on, guys, live a little."

_No._

All Blaine wanted to do was stop living. He had seen too much, felt too much – all he wanted was a slow, numb death. He did not want to go to Scandals. All he wanted was to die on that stage when he was purging out his sins out in song, his passions making him as perfect as he could be, shaping him with every note and every breath he took underneath those florescent lights. Blaine can feel it again. It was the high he needed to forget everything, the kind of high he got when he first saw how blue Kurt's eyes were, the kind of high that made him sing a song he didn't want to sing.

Blaine knew his opinion already. "We would love to, Sebastian. Thank you for the offer. That's very nice of you but…that's just isn't—our kind of thing."

"Let's do it," Kurt interjected and Blaine's heart was racing fast with adrenaline.

Blaine's voice was higher when he said, "_What_?" his mind was rattling with a thousand different ways that it can go wrong. His hands were sweaty and he felt like his breathing was restricted.

"Yeah, we have a whole bunch of stuff to start crossing over our lists…we're in." Kurt was glaring over at Sebastian, oblivious to the panic that Blaine was going through because _no, no, no. Why the hell did you have to say anything about being adventurous? This was essentially your fault! Your fault! Stupid! Blaine, you are stupid! _His mind repeated over and over again. Blaine felt all colour drain from his face.

Sebastian would have gloated more, but he'd realised how anxious Blaine actually was, and simply replied with a brief "Great."

A horrified Blaine simply repeated, "Great."

After that, Sebastian had left and Blaine felt sick. He just wanted to leave but Kurt wanted to take him home. Blaine had followed Kurt to his car and they drove home. All Blaine can do was worry about how bad it would all be, and at the same time, he was worrying about Kurt's questions and inspections. During the car ride, he can see that Kurt was debating whether or not to ask him questions and he simply made a statement that made Blaine's heart explode out of his chest. "I thought you were with the Doctor today."

Blaine nodded his head. "I did."

Kurt looked back at Blaine and then asked. "Did you meet up with Sebastian after your appointment?"

Blaine swallowed, and then nodded his head. "Yeah, we went out for coffee." His throat was constricted and he found it hard to swallow now. "I found out I've developed some sort of lactose intolerance after the food poisoning thing so I can't have lactose anymore. It makes me puke. Doctors said it's not common for a person to throw up when ingesting dairy even if they are intolerant but it's possible. Sebastian mentioned something about possibly having a milk allergy because they made me drink this solution. Lactose intolerance was just their first guess because of a family history. We're not sure which but I'm avoiding anything with milk in it anyway."

Kurt stared at Blaine for a while, and Blaine was simply glad that the road was empty – otherwise, he would've been far too worried about getting into a car accident. "You look tired," was Kurt's only comment. "Do you want me to drop you home?"

"Uh, I…sure," Blaine very reluctantly said. That morning, he hadn't driven anywhere – Sebastian had. He had simply walked towards a bookstore and met Sebastian there. Sebastian had been catching him longingly staring at books again and after a row between him and Sebastian, Sebastian gave up on attempting to buy something for Blaine when Blaine so obviously didn't want Sebastian to buy him anything. The next few minutes were so nostalgic for Blaine, giving someone the directions of his house. Roads started to become more and more familiar. Suddenly, he was a child again, peering out the window as his Mother drove him back home from elementary school.

The road – he can remember the bakery down the road. He remembered the taste of the bread that his Mother used to bring every Sunday morning for Blaine to eat. He saw glances of the park, the swing set – how Blaine longed to touch those swings again. How he longed to be a child again. When he was a child, everything was simpler. Stephen was just a boy Blaine wanted to love. He had abrupt fantasies of anything at any moment. He remembered speeding off in his bike to get the milk his Father needed him to for making warm tea on those long afternoons. He remembered walking down the road to little stores when he was bored with his Mother, just to check clothing on small little outlets. She always bought the gaudiest things. All Blaine wanted was that again, to desperately see the crinkles in his Father's eyes when he smiled, or his Mother's long, elegant fingernails putting the final touches on a cake. Her food was always so decorative, so festive. His Father had this laugh that made Blaine feel warm. As he saw the familiar gates, his heart tugged. He looked at his home, his beautiful, beautiful home –

But he didn't belong there anymore.

Blaine still stepped out of his car, as his eyes were mesmerised by the household. He can feel home. He can see his bed upstairs, his blue bed with its covers. He knew he had a mass of teddy bears on his bedside, along with a bunch of clocks – he had so many clocks on his tables, and on his walls.

"That's your house?" Kurt said, dumbfounded. "It's so _large_."

Blaine laughed but it was a sad laugh. He had left the car and gave Kurt a quick wave. He walked towards the fence, moving towards the doorway. His eyes simply filled with unshed tears, as he got to the front door. He pulled out the key he always had in his pocket, and placed it into its hole. By then, Kurt was leaving and he had veered off in another direction. Blaine had pulled the key away from the hole, putting it back into his pocket. He watched Kurt leave – Kurt, whom didn't know anything. He called Nick and told him he was coming to his house for dinner and simply walked down the road to the Duval household.

Nick had shaken his head when he saw Blaine standing there and hugged him when he stepped in. "Blaine!" Blaine never knew why the Warblers were so happy to see him. Apparently, there was more than just a little get together because as soon as Nick exclaimed that, Blaine was attacked by Jeff and Trent. Sebastian stepped out of the doorway with a raised eyebrow. Blaine blushed when Sebastian had walked towards him to give him a very quick hug. He can tell that Sebastian wasn't the type of person that hugged so that meant a lot to him. The Warblers all had some sort of formal get-together every week, but Blaine would've never had guessed that they'd chosen this Friday to do it at Nick Duval's household.

"You look better," Sebastian mumbled.

"You look pale," Nick muttered, rolling his eyes as Sebastian's words. Almost immediately, Blaine felt Jeff pull off his jacket from his shoulders and Trent had pulled Blaine's backpack from his hands. Blaine felt himself flush at them for doing that for him. Nick had even pulled Blaine into the direction of the dining room. It felt like old times. Blaine's mouth dropped to see that Wes had travelled all the way back from England where he was studying law to attend the dinner. Sometimes, he did. Wes and David, whom were deep in conversation, broke out only to move towards Blaine and hug him as tightly as they could.

"The Warblers have finally reunited," Trent called out.

"I'll drink to that," Thad said, pulling his glass in the air. "Bee, how are you, you little bitch?"

"Stop suffocating him," David rolled his eyes. "Come on. Sit down." Blaine felt both Nick and Jeff pull him down on a chair right next to Wes. Blaine had shaken his head. The Warblers still had the same eloquent dinners as always. Nick was just staring at Blaine for the longest of time, looking very suspicious and it took Blaine a few moments to notice that. His anxiety got the best of him immediately.

"You lost weight," Nick noticed. "Like a lot of weight. I didn't realise this until you took off that huge jacket that has to be at least two sizes bigger than you are but…"

Jeff was fixated on that. "Oh my God and your cheeks don't even exist anymore."

"What?" Blaine hated this about the Warblers – they over reacted. Even Sebastian had rolled his eyes and Wes simply shook his at Jeff's comment. "No, no. What do you mean I don't have any cheeks? That's insane." He fiddled with his shirt and sighed, shaking his head.

Blaine's phone rang. He was suddenly far too hyperaware of whom was calling him. If it was Kurt, and he heard the Warblers around him, there would be questions. To his complete and utter relief, it was Amy. He had answered the phone and heard her sigh on the other line. "Love, your uncle is coming over and as far as he knows, you live with me. I know that you are still trying to put up this insane idea of you going to public school and living back at home, but you must come back home at least for the remainder of the week."

"Okay," Blaine said out loud, as he curled up his lower lip. "That's fine. I'm still going to go to McKinley."

"Alright. You should come back home after school then. You still remember my address I reckon?" His family was so dysfunctional. His Mother would have killed Amy if she ever found out what she was allowing Blaine to do, even if Blaine had a huge security system around his house and was old and mature enough, none of his parents would allow Blaine to suffer that loneliness that came with living alone. These thoughts spiralled in his mind. He knew his parents well – and both of them would rather have died a day other than have Blaine feel any more pain than he already did. They loved him to death, every bit of his skin and every bone in his body. He can do no wrong. He was just Blaine, always the victim. Blaine. Blaine whom relied on faith so much, whom believed in God and did anything to replenish his sins. He shut the phone after that meagre call, feeling a bit more unenthusiastic about the next coming days, but for tonight, he was just with his friends – his best friends – and they were just laughing and eating right now.

Blaine was pushing against his sausage and drank sips from the Coke Nick had laid out. His mind flashed to him back when he was five-foot-six and a hundred and fifteen pounds, barely eating and never really hungry. He can't eat sausage because he was a vegetarian but he still poked at whatever was in front of his plate. He had mashed potatoes that he can eat if he wanted to, and there were carrots and broccoli. He poked at the vegetables and ate those. He can't help but feel like everyone was staring at him, and he'd felt far too self-conscious about what he was eating. The mashed potatoes were no doubt made with butter and milk, so they were out.

"Why aren't you eating, Bee?"

He wondered if the Warblers were just hyperaware of everything Blaine did, or if he was genuinely off these past few days. He just shrugged and pushed his plate away. It honestly somehow shocked him to realise that he'd actually used to come to Nick's and Jeff's and the other Warbler's houses just to eat. He suddenly felt very greedy and gluttonous. He wondered if this was because it was considered using his friends – he knew that he surely didn't deserve all of this attention after he'd left them. "I'm just not hungry," Blaine just shrugged and he honestly wasn't hungry at all. If he was, he would've eaten. Perhaps spending far too long with his head in a toilet made him feel nauseated and gross.

He was in conflict of whether or not to force himself to eat anymore or not. He knew he barely ate when he was depressed, and he also knew was that if he lost weight, it would be like he was crying for help. He did not deserve to cry for help, but yet again, this entire charade was too had to put up. He didn't have an appetite. He didn't want to pretend like he had one. He'd taken a roll of bread that was in Blaine's eyes - quite big actually – and ate that with a nut butter but he didn't really feel hungry enough for anything too substantial. Apparently, this raised red flags with the Warblers that weren't really there with the New Directions. Blaine knew that they never really noticed whether Blaine consumed a whole castor of sugar or if he had been living on water all day. This was both good and bad, because Blaine had panicked, wondering if they'd ever notice that Kurt was depressed. He'd never cared about himself though. He was happy his self-destruction and depression can be hidden by the New Directions easily. Kurt was one of them. He was pretty oblivious most times. Unless Blaine told him, Kurt wouldn't ever be able to tell that Blaine was honestly depressed, or that he hadn't eaten properly in a while and that was why he looked so tired. Kurt had noticed his exhaustion though an that was more than he can ask for.

Blaine was just wondering right now as he ate that piece of bread. The Warblers seemed very attentive of him. "You had to pass by your house to come here," was Trent's timid statement.

Sebastian rolled his eyes. "Tell me something we don't know, shortie."

"How was it?" Trent had ignored Sebastian's comment completely.

Blaine smiled as he pulled his key out of his pocket. He'd always carried the key. "I couldn't step inside. Would you believe it?" he shook his head and laughed, like it was a joke. Sebastian just nodded his head. The Warblers noted and followed suit, nodding their heads towards them.

"How were they like?" Jeff whispered.

"Jeffery!" Nick darkened his eyes.

Blaine shook his head, assuring Nick that it was fine that Jeff was asking as he took a deep breath. "They were amazing, beautiful people." He shook his head. "It was wrong for them to die at that age. They were both young. In their late thirties. They shouldn't have died," Blaine's voice was soft at the end of his statements and Sebastian slowly nodded his head.

"I'm sure you all have your share of tragedies," apparently, Sebastian picked up what Blaine had meant – he wanted the attention to be deterred away from him somehow.

Sebastian sighed. "My only tragedy is my parent's divorce. Oh, that and my Mother's incessant babbling about the things she wants me to be."

Blaine appreciated Sebastian's effort as trying to make the conversation about him. He had placed a hand on Sebastian's own and gave him a sweet smile that could mean nothing more than friendship. Sebastian simply winked at him. In return, Blaine had pulled his hand away as if Sebastian was radioactive. Sebastian noted and seemed hurt but didn't seem to do much about it. After that dinner, Blaine had to walk his way back towards his car, which was an agonising distance from where he was. About two hours later, Blaine managed to locate his car, and his legs were practically like jelly. He deserved it for lying to Kurt though. He thought he did. He had crawled into his car and all he wanted to do was sleep, so he did.

That morning was not pleasant. It was cold and Blaine wanted more layers on him. Weekends were always the worst for food. This morning, he woke up actually hungry and was ready to eat half of his arm but Blaine couldn't give his money away. Then in his state of wondering what he was going to do, he realised that he can stop by Amy's prematurely and just say that he wanted his things in or something like that. He didn't want to mention how miserable he was alone, or how hungry he was and that he hadn't eaten properly in days because of the weighted depression in his chest.

Moving back into Amy's was a tiring process and all in all, the whole time, Blaine was just thinking about how hungry he was. He swore he can eat a whole package of waffles with syrup and butter. He had found his aunt's scale and weighed himself. He was at 149lbs. He had lost about two additional pounds. Fourteen pounds. It had barely been two and a half weeks of living on his own and Blaine had managed to lose that much. His mind was just raking with fear. He cannot keep on not eating as he pleased or eat as he pleased either. He had to find a way, a system, but at the same time, he wanted to barely weigh anything, not exist. Die. A slow, and decent suffering for all he'd done, all he'd told Kurt, every word was sin on his lips and allowing Stephen to die just like that…that was sin. He had killed his boyfriend. He was a horrible, horrible monster that didn't deserve to see the light of day.

In his conflictions, all he knew was that he needed to eat right now. Amy had asked if he ate and he'd simply shaken his head as if the hunger wasn't a gnawing one in his stomach. His uncle, Jayden, had walked inside, and shut the doorway. Amy told Blaine she was happy he decided to drop by unexpectedly as coincidentally, Jayden took an early flight. Blaine had his things already hauled into a very small room where he was expected to sleep in. Blaine had never been so happy to see a bed in his life. He wished he can stay there forever, with the comfort of blankets, a pillow, and being able to adjust the temperature just as well as he pleased. He missed having a mirror. He missed being able to do anything he wanted at any time without consequence.

She had a piano. Blaine's heart leaped when he saw that piano. He had been taking piano lessons since very young and used to practice for hours on end. At first, it had been a requirement because his Mother had wanted him to play at a wedding until it became an obsession. Blaine swore his fingers would've broken one day because of the horrendous piano lessons he had to take, long and gruelling. He was so happy though. Now, he had just played – he played like his instructors were watching him. He'd forgotten about food for just that moment, and Jayden, Kurt, Sebastian, Stephen – and he played. He played like it was the only thing he can ever do right. He played with the idea that there was beauty in the universe and that with every time he tapped a key that beauty exploded into sounds and fragments of colour. Colour. Blaine can taste the colours on his tongue, from the beauty, the imagery…everything was a lullaby, a memory.

He nearly wanted to cry when he was done. To think that a week later, he had to leave. _But do you have to? You don't deserve to be in the woods, Blaine. You don't deserve to die out there. You need this _kept on repeating in his mind but then again, he did need to die outside. He thought of Stephen, of that skin draining of colour, of how empty he felt like when he heard that his loving, beautiful parents were dead – it had to be karma. It had to be because he'd killed his boyfriend so God had to take away something he cared about, because he was a selfish, stupid brat. Yes, Blaine wanted a bed, but did he absolutely require a bed? No. Did he deserve a bed? Absolutely not. He didn't deserve food. He didn't deserve happiness, yet he still revelled in the happiness of playing those beautiful keys. He had stood up, and smiled weakly at his aunt, whom just told him that breakfast was ready.

He ate. He ate himself sick of pancakes and waffles. He ate so much syrup it was ungodly.

Jayden was staring at Blaine as if Blaine had been eating an alien off his plate. He'd eaten so much so fast it was so horrible. Blaine felt a sickness in his stomach. He'd been drinking coffee with his meal, and now, he just felt sick, so sick that he needed to throw up. He can't go down this road again, he told himself. He can still imagine Stephen's eyes, wondering why his boyfriend was shoving his fingers down his throat. He can imagine Stephen wrapped his arms around him, telling him that _it didn't matter that if you're fat, Blainey. You're damn well attractive. _He'd still associated Blaine with his trigger word, _fat_.

It was the main reason he was so build. He had been over exercising when he was young. He'd hit 170 once because of muscle. It was so mortifying and all Blaine wanted to do was puke. Even if Stephen told him that he only looked a little fat (he was being honest), it didn't derive his attention away from Blaine. Oh dear Lord, Blaine remembered when his parents found him in his bathroom with a toothbrush stuck down his throat. He used to eat so much food and he wasted so much of it because all he had ever done was throwing it up. He'd throw it up and abuse laxatives and diet pills and run like a maniac. He had only ever lost five pounds. It had been a whole year. He fasted sometimes too. Now, he felt it all coming back to him. When he got on that scale, those thoughts that were telling him that he shouldn't weigh anything, because he didn't deserve any of that weight, or food that he was eating; the same voice that wanted him to go with his insane plan of losing so much. At the same time, he can see that boy in the mirror, that boy that was sick and couldn't eat because of his depression.

His parents thought he may be restricting but Blaine never could restrict his food for very long without binging and purging. He had only been too depressed to eat at those times. He can still feel his Mother's eyes when he was pulling off his shirt and she can see the faint outline of his ribcage. She thought he looked sickly and offered to make him homemade bread. There was nobody here to offer to make him bread anymore. There was nobody that could possibly catch him throwing up anymore, nobody to stop him from reaching his elusive weight goals – but at the same time, a part of him was afraid, because of Kurt. He can imagine Kurt finding him, how torn he'd be but then, that was all up to Blaine. If was careful enough, Kurt would never know. He can wear layers and layers of clothing, conceal all of it. He can do all of this. He'd had such a small frame. It would take him too much to lose to look deathly.

His mind was raking back and forth. He'd kneel in front of the toilet and stick his finger down his throat. It was old practice. He knew just how far to push it in. He knew he'd drunken enough liquid to throw it all back up. He had thrown up small splatters of food. He took a deep breath and tried to force himself to purge again. He cannot have all of that food in him. He wondered if all of that throwing up last week triggered him. Amy and Jayden were both lactose intolerant. They didn't put any milk or anything in their foods. It was all either almond or coconut milk and Jayden was a strict vegan that had all of this muscle on him. Blaine had felt so self-conscious again. He just kept on going. Throwing up every morsel of food like a punishment, purging – honestly, purging his body from his dark sin.

Blaine finally broke down. He cried silently as he placed his head in his hands. So, this was the road he was going into again. He had flushed down the toilet, washed his face, brushed his teeth and couldn't bear to look at the mirror anymore. He can imagine his teeth yellowing again. He can imagine Russell's sign on his knuckles. He remembered Sebastian once mentioning that he and his parents once accidentally wasted so much money that Sebastian had to involuntarily starve every night. Blaine was so disgusted at himself. Some people didn't have the choice and here he was, demolishing the whole lot of pancakes and waffles because he hadn't properly eaten two meals. He was disgusting and gluttonous.

He can imagine his Mother again, kneeling down next to him. How can he ever tell her about what had happened to him? How can he ever tell her why he did this? That all he wanted was to become a skeleton and eventually die of misery and sadness. He can never tell his Mother that. She died without knowing. That was something that Blaine would always be happy to hear. When Kurt left him for someone much better than him and much more beautiful and elusive, Blaine knew that he can kill himself and literally have nobody care. Sebastian will get over. So will the Warblers. Kurt will too. Nobody needed him. Blaine wouldn't need himself to do anything.

He can remember…

_"You're looking thin, Bee," Stephen muttered, placing a hand on Blaine's cheek. "You alright?"_

_Blaine nodded his head, trying to suppress a smile because Stephen just said he looked thin, then he wondered if he must be 'looking thin' than his normal must be fat. "Yeah," he whispered._

_"You sure?" Stephen mumbled. "Bee, you've been throwing up and not feeling well for a while now. I think you just need to lie down or something. You still look sick. And what's up with your hands? Why are your knuckles scarred?"_

_The Russell's sign he tried so hard to hide. Blaine just shrugged. "I don't know," was his meagre response._

_"Come on, Bee. Come sit together with me. I've got a bunch of Aztec cookies and cornbread. You love that crap."_

_Blaine smiled weakly. "Can I just sleep?"_

_"You're always fucking asleep," Stephen snapped. "Always so fucking tired and asleep. Come on, Bee. Live a little."_

After he'd so mercilessly purged out his food, he had stepped out of the bathroom after flushing in the toilet. He felt tired and now, he did want to sleep, but the memory was fresh in his mind. This was wrong. Stephen was dead. He wasn't supposed to remember all of the wrong Stephen did. He was supposed to remember all the right he did – how his boyfriend had sacrificed so much for Blaine's selfish behalf. Blaine had gone to his room and curled up in his bed. He had to go to Scandals today. Blaine remembered as he looked through his messages. Kurt told him that they should probably go around eight or nine to appear more scandalous. Kurt's normal was six or seven for a party, which made Blaine laugh slightly. He loved Kurt to death.

Blaine was just alone for the rest of the day. He practiced on the piano, something he had to do as a child. He swore his fingers bled. He also ate far too much at lunch. He ate enough rice to last him a lifetime, with Jayden glaring at him like he was a glutton and Blaine was. He ate that and he snuck around, hiding small chocolate bars wherever he can find them, taking a cup of milk with him, ate those and purged again. He was getting into this cycle, and he must stop. He knew had to stop and it had only been a few hours but whenever he started purging, this hunger would take him over that was unlike any other hunger. He would eat, and eat and eat, only to throw it right back up again. After he threw up the food, he thought he might as well do something productive and found the treadmill. He debated going on top of it for a whole twelve minutes before he decided that he had to. He ran. He ran and all he can remember was the Sadie Hawkins dance. All he can remember was Stephen, his hands on his skin. All he can remember was how much it hurt. He ran for only half an hour, because his knees got wobbly and he felt like they'd buckle down against the weight of his depression. He showered and found his clothing. He can already taste bile in his mouth. He hated how easy it was for him to purge after getting far too used to it. His body had reunited with the bulimia like it was an old friend.

It seemed like it never quite left.

He had gone off towards Scandals, feeling anxious build up. It was always worse when he didn't properly eat. He did eat…but didn't mean he kept it in. He was sure he hadn't burned all of it, or threw up all of it. He'll know by tomorrow what the scale said. He felt himself shift uncomfortably as he picked up Kurt. Kurt looked as fabulous as always. He took a deep breath. He just wanted this night to end. He can see that it would be bad – very, very bad. Kurt had given him the ID that Sebastian had apparently given Kurt.

"Chas Dollsworth," Kurt had commented on the picture of the ID that he'd gotten. "This doesn't even look like me."

"Don't worry," a frantic, nervous wreck of a boy named Blaine said whilst he was worrying himself. "Mine says I'm 38. It'll work," he hesitantly added. He had to make a joke out of a situation when it was far too tense. Blaine was a mess as he walked inside – but to his relief, it wasn't very scandalous but he can't really shake the feeling that something terrible was going to happen. They talked about glamorous drag queens and somehow, Ginger from Gillian's Island was mentioned. Then, Blaine saw him. He was beautiful even in his stripped shirt. Blaine felt self-conscious. He can never pull that off without looking like an elephant.

"I really don't like that guy," Kurt finally said.

Blaine nearly confidently stated the one thing he had been sure about. "He's harmless."

He'd given him a beer and then Blaine didn't really remembered much else afterwards, just that there were fuzzy bits about dancing and him pushing Kurt on top of him. In that instant actually, he seemed to remember everything in a near dream-like sequence. Everything mashed up together and he knew he fucked up. He had a feeling that he did. He got this confirmation when he had sent a small, quick text simply saying _Kurt_? to his boyfriend but he received no real response. Blaine had always been able to tolerate a cup of a beer. He'd then remembered that he can only tolerate alcohol when he'd eaten. His stomach was empty. He could get drunk so much easier than normal. He also slightly suspected Sebastian put something in his drink. Sebastian, a boy whom he'd trusted, completely and utterly betraying him. He can just feel it on his skin, but he deserved it. He deserved all of this. He was hung-over and in pain. He wished he was just talking about physical pain. His emotional psyche was disrupted. All he wanted to do was purge out his pain, literally. He wanted to sing. He wanted his piano. He wanted to eat something just to throw it up because he deserved that kind of pain.

* * *

_Kurt?_

He got no answer.

* * *

_Kurt, please, just tell me what happened._

He sent that one after he decided to stop purging because he didn't want to go down that road again, so he ate breakfast, but then he somehow ended up pressed up against the porcelain bowl, unable to take the feeling of food in his stomach.

* * *

_Kurt, I love you._

Blaine tried to eat only vegetables for dinner. He didn't have to purge veggies. He couldn't sleep because he swore he can still feel the food six hours after he'd consumed it.

* * *

_Blaine, you pushed me on top of you so we can have sex and I didn't want to._

Blaine dropped his phone. His hands were shaking as he thought of Stephen. He thought of Stephen's skin on his own. He thought of how he was hurt. He could've hurt Kurt the same way. He could've just forced him to do something he didn't want to do – he could've raped him. Blaine just felt disgusted at himself, revolted, completely so and wanted to gnaw out his skin. He wanted to run a razorblade down his skin just to feel the pain, just to cut himself into ribbons to show Kurt just how he felt, just how sorry he was about everything. He was so, so sorry, but none of that mattered, because he was inhuman. He was a monster. He lied and broke hearts. He made everything think he was the poor victimised Blaine but in reality, he was just a cold, dark stranger that sucked darkness like it was a perfume.

Blaine didn't know what to do with himself. He'd read that message fifteen times over. _Blaine, you pushed me on top of you so we can have sex and I didn't want to. Blaine, you pushed me on top of you so we can have sex and I didn't want to. Blaine, you pushed me on top of you so we can have sex and I didn't want to._ They repeated in his head constantly, those words. Every one of them haunted him more than the last. He had dropped his phone at some point and curled up into the bathroom. He found his razorblade but then decided not to. He was so close to, but he didn't. He didn't because he couldn't bear the thought of changing in costumes and Rachel or Artie or Santana catching a sight of the scars on his body. His body, his disgusting, putrid body. He pressed his head in his knees. He had locked himself in the bathroom because he didn't want to be bothered. Nobody could bother him when he was sitting on the tiles of the bathroom. He was with himself and his demons. There were far too many of them to count right now.

_"Stephen, stop!"_

_"Shhh, Bee. You're being melodramatic. You always are. What the hell is wrong with you sometimes? This is supposed to feel good. I love you, Bee."_

_But the blood, so much blood…_

He could've done that to Kurt. All he can think about was how stupid he was, how horrible he was, how he just wanted to burn into ashes. He just drove to sit down near the cliff, staring down at it, shutting his eyes and trying to revel in the environment around him. He had laid down on the grass, his fingers grabbing onto the soil and Earth and he just laid there, wondering why he was such a stupid fuck-up all of the time, why he hurt people…why he did the horrible things that he did.

* * *

_It's been a week since we've talked, Blaine. You're worrying me. You look thinner and paler. I know what you did was wrong but you – I love you, and you look horrible. Please talk to me._

* * *

_Blaine, I swear it's fine. You were drunk and I understand you won't do anything to intentionally hurt me. It's been two weeks since we've talked and now, I'm worried about you._

* * *

_ Blaine…? _

* * *

_xo Peanut Butter/Sam_


	4. Chapter 4

_the only reason it takes me forever to write this is because not only do i have to watch the series' clips back to back and actually describe the events, but each chapter is pretty lengthy (for a reason too). they have to be lengthy to fit what's going to happen and what happens else this would be like a 90 chapter fanfic. i'm thinking of stopping the events somewhere in S04 and then just ending it nicely. _

_to **PenMagic**, ohhhh i will look at it. i prefer Seblaine more than Klaine though. shocking, right? as long as Blaine is being hurt in Klaine and Sebastian's the one that's being killed in the Seblaine im haaaaaaaaapy. i had no idea that was a cliffie. at allll. to **Guest**, im blussssshing and yes, Blaine does have insane emotional depth in this story. it's what it's based on actually. sigh and why it's hard for me to update this quickly as well_

* * *

Chapter 4

* * *

Blaine stared at the razorblade, glittering in the dim light. He was just about to take it, and stare at the dull blade. His stomach was gargling from indigestion. The first week of hell was bestowed upon him, as he shut his eyes. God was giving him a way to purge out his sins, hurt himself, self-destruct and maybe then, he could be close to enough. He could be sinless, free – a beautiful human being.

* * *

The tremor of his hands reminded him of a day where he was staring at Stephen fall asleep, and thinking about killing him. How he had. He had killed his Stephen when he'd asked him for that dance, when he was so single-handedly response for the fact that he was pummelled to death by merciless hands that would not rest until one of them was dead. It had to be Stephen, his beautiful Stephen, dead. His scale only shifted last week because of _that_ day – Sunday was Stephen's birthday. He would have been eighteen. He would have been alive. He made himself a huge cake, frosted it, just the way Stephen would've liked. Chocolate layered with vanilla frosting and coated with almonds. The almonds were a little hard to purge out, but none the less, it was all out, and then he didn't want to eat anymore, so he didn't.

He didn't know what he was doing to himself. He'd never really lost weight the years before. He'd initially lost ten and then he kept on fluctuating up the same other ten pounds. He'd gotten down from 170 to 160 and then afterwards, he kept on fluctuating to 165 and then back down 155. His body was a mess of self-destruction and self-loathing. He didn't know what he was doing. His scale only shifted because he ate in tiny amounts after Stephen's birthday. Vigorously aware of every calorie of every morsel in his body like it was his job, how foolish was he – but he didn't know. He didn't know how not to care about anything anymore.

His cheeks were swollen and Russell's sign had made its way back to his knuckles only after a week of incessant purging. His body had gotten back to old habits very quickly, nearly as if he was just going back an old friend. His eyes were watery. He wasn't aware if he was any thinner but his pants told him that he was. His scale told him that he was. He looked into the mirror and realised that vanity was an immoral thing. He heard the sound of his aunt calling him for supper.

He'd had about three hundred and fifty calories of food. He knew because it was pre-packaged. He did not care what. Food was not by taste but by calories. It all tasted the same, vaguely pleasurable and gratifying if only for a moment before a heavy guilt weighed into his stomach. Why was this happening so fast? It was only a week ago he was fine with eating but was he ever okay with eating anything? For months, he'd been battling between forcing himself to eat when he was depressed and then not caring at all. He knew he'd nearly always had a distorted intake. It would come back fast because he'd had it before. There was no gradual build-up because the gradual build-up had happened, with Blaine unaware of it happening. He'd eaten a whole jar of spread just to 'prove Sebastian wrong'. He had food poisoning because of it and it must have triggered something – throwing up everything for two weeks. It had to. He'd refused to eat in front of Kurt's prying eyes far too many times because he'd felt self-conscious. He ate the most when he was alone. It was all building up, but Blaine never realised. He hadn't realised until he had to purge. He had to purge, not even a thought process anymore. He _had_ to do it.

This week of not talking to Kurt now manifested in two. He knew Kurt cared. He can read the messages, but he simply did not care about himself anymore. His heart hurt him whenever he realised that his cherub gave a decent ounce of care for him. He did not want anyone to care about him, because he hadn't cared about himself. He refused to understand why he was into this again. He was so weak for going back to old habits. At least he hadn't cut. He had never cut, but the manifesting need to purge in his head had snapped back too quickly. He was far too weak for his own good. He didn't know how it all started, how he didn't notice that he was deterring off the normal a second time again. How foolish was he, to be unable to detect when he was re-developing any habit yet again. He was so stupid, so childish, so naïve. Every day, he'd tell himself not to purge, not to waste food, not to submit to this monster of a disorder – and yet every day, he did. It came back to him, hitting him hard, like it was just waiting for him to snap back again.

Blaine hated this. He did not want to be vain and he didn't want to care about the amounts of food that he ate, but gluttony was a sin, a sin that needed to be purged. He didn't want to become a sin. He was already so much, a liar, a gluttonous liar that destroyed everything in his path. Every day, he told himself he would stop purging, and yet every single day, he was a broken record, kneeling beside his toilet. He'd never get rid of his toilet brush. He'd sit on that table, knowing very well he will eat more than the average human, and then sneak around to get even more food when his aunt and uncle wasn't looking just so he can throw it up again. Every day, he told himself if he stopped purging, he can talk to Kurt again after what happened. Every single day, and every day, he managed to be even more of a failure than the next.

This wasn't possible. It shouldn't be.

At school, he'd managed to dodge Kurt all the time. Lunch went by with Blaine trying to find places to hide away from Kurt, and whenever he'd bump into one of the New Directions, he sped past them. He went to each one of the Glee meetings though, as if nothing had changed, and he sat quite far away from Kurt. He knew Kurt was looking at him, just staring at him. All Blaine can think was if he can see how revolting he was. His jacket was bigger than he was, just to hide his knuckles from view by his sleeve. His sleeve covered nearly most of his hand, thankfully, not like anyone would notice. Nobody ever quite noticed. In rehearsals, Rachel had nearly always beckoned him to take it off, and he was glad he'd always purged with his left hand, for obvious reasons. Nobody ever had to stare at his left hand, but he could be holding a pencil in his right, and their eyes would drift towards his knuckles far too easily. He sung like nothing had changed, because as far as he knew, on the stage, nothing would ever change. He would still be a boy that can sing. Nobody cared about if he'd lost his parents, if he'd killed his boyfriend, if he was depressed or if he spent the evening puking when he was on that stage, just that he can sing, and he can sing very well. He'd always find means to purge his sins, even if it was a factual purge, with him kneeling down by his knees in front of the porcelain bowl like it was his God and he'd throw it up, purge his sins, and free himself of his gluttony.

The show night was horrible. All Blaine can feel like was that he was the fattest Tony ever in the history of the universe. He'd felt dizzy from the purge. He purged a bunch of food that was offered backstage – three muffins downed down by two cups of milk and four chocolate bars. He'd never felt so enormous in his life standing near that stage. Actually, all he ever felt was big. When he sang, he was weightless. He can feel Kurt's eyes on him, staring at him with that smile. They both knew it too well, as long as Blaine can sing, he would be okay. He should be okay if he can still sing.

Kurt had gotten him flowers again – red and yellow, always have been. Red and yellow flowers. He'd loved them, and had taken them in his hands. Those red and yellow flowers that were so much more perfect than he'll ever be in his life. Afterwards, Kurt caught him dancing in a striped shirt. He didn't want Kurt to tell him that he lost weight. It was a fluke on his scale. He was huge. He was always huge. He can still feel the fat and calories from those muffins and chocolate and all that milk materialising inside of him into fat, fat, fat, staying there forever because Blaine was a beast of food and would just eat and eat and eat and he thought he can puke it all up. He thought that he can undo his mistakes. He can never undo his mistakes, yet he still tried. He still tried to go against his body's nature, what God made him into, just to correct himself of his sins. He probably gained all the weight he'd lost back. He definitely had. He can just feel it in his skin, in his body, like a constant weight, an inch on his stomach, two on his thigh, as he inflated nearly all the time. He can feel all of it, the bloat from his stomach protruding in a way that people didn't realise. It all looked so much, so very much.

"Shouldn't you be celebrating?" Kurt asked.

Celebrate what? He had messed up that move in that last sequence. He was fat and ugly and unlovable. He was a horrible human being that only consumed food so freely only to throw it up again. He had relapsed from something that he thought he could never have again and progressed deep into it in no more than three weeks because he'd never truly recovered from it, had he? He had his parents before, to tell him that he was perfect. He had Stephen to remind him of everything. They were both dead. Kurt was flawless. Kurt needed to be reminded that he was perfect, because he was, because Blaine can't stand the thought of Kurt getting into this pain.

"I'm going over this move," he didn't want to lie. "I messed it up tonight. I know I can do it better."

He wondered how he can say it so thoughtlessly, like it wasn't the only thing on his mind, how imperfect he was. How he needed to do everything so flawlessly. He had to be perfect. It was the only way he can purge his sins. He can be flawless because he was inhuman, a beast of food and murder. Oh, how he nearly always fooled them – made Kurt believe he wasn't disgusting. He was all but that, cold and unlovable.

"Beauty of the stage," Kurt mumbled, but Blaine knew all of the beauty, and so much more. "You get to do it all over again tomorrow night. Firstly, I thought that both of guys were perfect."

Perfect, perfect, how _perfect_ he was on stage to these people…to Kurt.

"Thank you," Kurt would never know how much Blaine needed to hear that. "Your Officer Krupke killed. Bought the house down."

"All your friends were here tonight. The Warblers. Sebastian. They're all lovin' it," Kurt finally said, and Blaine can only laugh. He can see Sebastian's eyes scanning him, trying to find something wrong with him because he knew there had to be something off with flawless Blaine. It was just the way Kurt had called the Warblers his friends – they were, but it was nice to hear that for a bit. It was still home after all, but it was just the way that Kurt said Sebastian… it…

Blaine felt defeated, as he stared at Kurt. "Come here," Kurt did, moving slowly towards him. "Gimmie your hand." He took Kurt's hand and placed it on his chest. "And hold it to your heart."

"Just like the song?" Kurt's eyes made Blaine want to fly. It was like the first day together all over again.

"Like the song…" Blaine confirmed and then added on. "Kurt, Sebastian doesn't mean anything to me. And you were right. Our first time shouldn't be like that. I was drunk…and I'm sorry." _Sorry, sorry, all you ever are is sorry and you always manage to screw everything up. _It was all that alcohol, all of those calories that he didn't need and his gluttonous nature ruining him and Kurt. He can just see it now, in front of his eyes, like an elaborate dream, distressing them away from each other like distressing the strings of a violin, breaking off the keys of his piano…

"It sure beats the last time you were drunk and made out with Rachel," Kurt joked. He was just so flawless, not angry at him or anything. Blaine can imagine, because all he can think about was possibly hurting Kurt, raping him. It disgusted him to no end to think he can be so immoral, so sinful, and so horrible. It revolted him, and scared him that he had come so close to doing that, hurting his beloved. He would never forget that, but Kurt would. He would forgive and forget, putting it at the back of his mind, only to use during heated fights and arguments. That wasn't the way it was supposed to be. Blaine chuckled, as he looked down. He can't let Kurt see his eyes. They were a pool of emotion right now, but they spoke. They spoke a bit more until they kissed, and Kurt had wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck.

He tried to make sure that Kurt's body was nowhere near his own, to feel all of his gross body against him scared him to no end. "You take my breath away," Kurt said when they broke apart. Blaine had been so hesitant, thinking that he tasted like puke, but then again, that was why he'd drank so much Diet Coke and drowned himself in water and breath mints for, to make sure that he tasted fine. "And not just now, but on that stage…"

Blaine felt tears surfacing but he did not cry. He could not cry in front of Kurt. "I'm so proud to be with you."

Blaine's voice was soft. "I hope so," he felt like a child getting his Father's approval. Kurt's approval, it was something he'd wanted for so long. His flawless angel was proud to be with him. It didn't matter that pride was a sin anymore in the back of Blaine's mind. Nothing ever could when he was staring into Kurt's eyes. "I want you to be," he added on.

Then Kurt said those words. "I want to go to your house."

Blaine can nearly feel the sexual intuitions with what Kurt was implying. He swallowed and nodded his head, mesmerised by Kurt's love for him, but also frantic. He was panicking so much. The car ride was too long. His key was always in the pocket of his front trousers. He'd never quite forgotten to take them out of the pockets of the pants he wore and put them in. It still smelled like memory. The car ride was also too short, too long and too short.

_Stephen's mouth was around Blaine's skin, tracing the skin with his lips. "I fucking love the way you taste."_

_"Steph, I'm tired," Blaine murmured._

_"Do this for me?"_

_Blaine nodded, but he didn't want to. Stephen knew he didn't want to._

_"Give me a blowjob."_

_Blaine looked up at Stephen with large eyes. He wanted to fall asleep. He'd just purged dinner. He didn't want any of this. He felt Stephen's hands around his hips, feeling his skin. "Either that, or we fuck, Bee."_

_Blaine dropped down on his knees._

_"Good, Bee."_

"Blaine? You're awfully quiet," Kurt muttered, as they drove towards his house.

Blaine just shrugged, as he stared outside. "I used to go to that bakery so much," he reminisced in some part of his mind.

Kurt rolled his eyes and shook his head. They had gotten into dangerous memory territory for Blaine. He had to leave that car feeling like the worst thing in the world. He didn't want to walk inside or anything. Kurt stared back at him, suddenly thinking. "Are your parents at your house?"

Almost as if trying to convince himself otherwise, Blaine shook his head. "Trip to Rome." How his parents had always wanted to see Rome.

Kurt nodded his head sufficiently. They walked down towards the door as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Blaine felt scared but at the same time, he was excited. He wanted to smell those candles in the front. He wanted to see cookies on a plate, his Mother's cookies, and he wanted to hear his Father's laughter. He wanted the television to be running for some reason. He wanted to fall on that couch like he used to do after school. He wondered if Stephen would just walk out of that doorway, one hand dipped in tomato sauce from the spaghetti his Mother made as he told Blaine _come on, Bee, come eat with me. _

Blaine's hands trembled as he fumbled for the keys, putting it in the hole and then slowly opening it. He opened the lights, and he can nearly feel tears surface in his eyes. His home. His home, his beautiful home – everything was still the same, the tables, the chairs, the couches – everything was still the same. Blaine never wanted to leave again, yet something was in the pitch of his stomach. Kurt's eyes were wide. "Your house is huge," he muttered. "It's so lovely."

"I know," Blaine breathlessly added on. He had taken Kurt's coat just so he can have an excuse to look around the house again. He looked at the kitchen, where the cookies were there, kept and sealed in a container with a note on top. He was afraid to read it. He can see the fridge, just one notice about bringing milk. He left to go upstairs and take Kurt to his room. His room…his memories. Blaine had thrown off the teddy bears from his bedside, which made Kurt shake and his hand and laugh. "Do you sleep with those?"

"Yes," Blaine said, and then added a joke because he was so nervous. "Jealous?"

"Not today," Kurt mumbled, as he sat on that bed. They shut the door. It was just Blaine, his good memories of this room and Kurt with him. Nothing should be able to stop this, nothing. He felt self-conscious though. He felt disgusting and huge and revolting. He didn't want to take off his shirt because he felt like Kurt would be disgusted at the scars from Sadie Hawkins, or that how his boyfriend can ever weigh so much. Blaine finally sucked up the courage, and leaned down to initial the first kiss with Kurt. They kissed and their tongues danced. This was the most perfect thing in the world, this idea – this idea that Kurt's body was Blaine's and Blaine's body was Kurt's and that they were once. Their lips connected, and soon enough, their bodies too.

Blaine just can't help but feel the anxiety pooling in his stomach. He did not want to do this. He didn't want to hurt Kurt. His shaky hands went to fumbling down towards Kurt's shirt. He unbuttoned Kurt's shirt very slowly. "What's wrong?"

"I don't want to hurt you, Kurt," Blaine finally announced, but Kurt shook his head as if Blaine's reason for anxiety was insane, as he unbuttoned Blaine's shirt. Blaine's heart raced as he saw Kurt's eyes trail down towards those scars and he shut his eyes. "They're from Sadie Hawkins. Don't-don't…" worry, Blaine wanted to finish but Kurt had only inched forward to kiss that spot of scar tissue.

Blaine looked down with eyes that glistened with amazement. He'd thought Kurt would be revolted, or disgusted because he was scarred from the dance, but Kurt's lips only trailed down his skin. "Blaine Anderson, no man has anything on you."

Blaine's lower lip trembled as Kurt placed a finger. "Why do you always doubt yourself?"

"It's in my nature. What can I say?" Blaine slightly teased him, before their lips enclosed once more. Somewhere along the way, their clothes discarded, leaving them only with skin pressed upon each other in a dark sin. Blaine can only think about how sinful it was, to feel so alive. Kurt tasted like salt, and salt always reminded him of tears. Warm skin against Blaine's tongue… they broke out in cold sweats, liquidising together as one solid unit. Somehow, they disrupted the laws of physics by fitting the way they had. Blaine can hear Kurt's moaning, but he can also see the blood forming. Kurt's moans turned into softer mewls. Blaine wanted to stop but Kurt urged him. There was something in Kurt's voice that resembled pure ecstasy, yet all Blaine can remember was laying down there, with Stephen towering over him, and how much it hurt, how much it hurt for Stephen to push into Blaine and how tight Blaine was. There was blood. There was always far too much blood.

After they were done, they laid down beside each other. Blaine tried to set his insecurities away as Kurt rubbed his chest, and Blaine's hands moved to trail down Kurt's skin. Somewhere along the line, they wore thin layers of clothing, but Kurt smiled – he smiled in a way that Blaine couldn't after Stephen had touched him. He smiled in a way that made the fabrication of time melt, become non-existent and they pressed their noses together. They stared into each other's eyes just to read each other's words. They both said the same message. _I love you, _and that…was that.

Kurt cooked dinner afterwards to show his gratitude, just like how he did with his Father, something he can't do anymore. It was a Hummel thing apparently, believing that food was the way to express emotion, to celebrate, something as a mood-lifter. To Blaine, all it felt like was anxiety in a plate, somehow forming underneath little ingredients as calories added up more and more. The more Blaine looked at the plate of casserole that Kurt made, the more he can taste how bad it would be like to purge it. He sighed, took his first sip of water, and then took his first bite under Kurt's eye. The cheese melted on his tongue. After dinner, Kurt left.

The first time Blaine had ever been alone in his house and the first thing he'd done was go into his room's toilet and try to puke. He did everything like his parents were in the next room, shut the door, open the shower, and pretend that he was taking a shower as he puked. He had actually taken a shower afterwards, and then wore his clothes. He was just about to get into bed but he just couldn't, not after Kurt and him had done it on that bed. It just wasn't the same. Everything was too painful after Kurt left. He wanted to throw up and his chest was hurting him. He hated being alone. He hated feeling alone in this household. He just bolted out of the doorway as if it was the most foreign place in the world, shutting the door and closing the lights, and then he did the only logical thing he could do – it was a two hour's walk to go back to the woods where he'd left his car. It was about an hour's walk to his aunt's and Amy needed him, but he couldn't walk. Walking would not burn the calories he just ingested so he ran. He ran like he'd never run before.

He ran and he made it there in thirty-two minutes. Blaine knew because he counted. He had a heart rate monitor glued to his wrist, something he'd bought when he was obsessed with burn meters a year ago and when he was a compulsive over exerciser. He then asked Amy if she wanted anything. She said milk, so Blaine braced him to go for another run to the most distance store he can think of, skipping by three closes ones that were an hour long's walk.

When he came back, she asked him what took him so long. Blaine said that that was the best milk he could find. She rolled his eyes and told him to go to bed, so he did. He went to bed, but that did not mean that he fell asleep easily that night.

* * *

150.8.

* * *

Kurt had sent Blaine eight boxes of chocolates. Kurt blushed the next day and muttered something about buying far too many and teasing Blaine about getting him a small chocolate supply for months. Blaine was biting back his tongue, not wanting to tell his boyfriend how the acid felt like coming up with the sticky chocolate.

* * *

152.4.

* * *

It was a cold morning that Blaine had woken up to. He was hungry today, and he was shaking from how cold he was. He was hungry enough to cry, and all he wanted to do was sob because he was thinking. Thinking usually made him want to kill himself. Most times, just thinking was close enough to make him want to hurt himself because when he thought, all his thoughts went to bad places. He can still feel Kurt's vulnerability. He wondered if Kurt was crying right now – in regret. Blaine cannot regret loving Kurt, but he wished that he was the one underneath Kurt, hurting him, but Kurt didn't know how to pleasure Blaine. Blaine wondered if he was too aggressive, or if Kurt wanted him to be aggressive – Blaine tried to be so delicate. His hands were trembling today because he was cold, and then he was scared, so his hands trembled even more.

It scared him to think that one day, he just would not exist, and nobody will ever remember him but at the same time, he was disgusted at the thought of someone remembering him. As long as Blaine was alive, Blaine would think of Stephen, his parents, and all the wrong he'd done them, because he knew, somewhere deep down, buried underneath a cavern of denial that Blaine just wanted Kurt to feel bad for not noticing that he was breaking on the inside, shattering. In some part of his mind, he just wanted to cut until he was bleeding to death, but he couldn't bring the razor close enough. He wanted to live out in the streets again but his uncle was still here, so Blaine was still forced to play this façade that he'd come accustomed to, that he lived with his aunt when in reality, all he had was a car and some clothing. He barely had any money. He was thinking of stealing some, but every time he did, shame pooled in his stomach because he didn't deserve any. Amy had given him a good amount every month, fifty, fifty dollars for necessities and food when he needed to use it and that was all she thought he needed. His house had everything. Blaine was not a stranger to know that his parents had thousands of dollars in a closet, and Blaine knew the code, and they trusted Blaine enough to use it. If he wanted any more money, he knew both of their bank accounts. Cooper didn't even know them, because they knew that Cooper would've wasted the money.

Blaine's hands were shaking. Cooper. He did not want to see his brother again in his life, not like this at least, not back in this bad place.

_"So, this is what you do?" Cooper murmured as Blaine laid there on the hospital bed, hooked to a saline. Blaine still swore he can remember the prick of the IV. "Make yourself sick? Make yourself throat up? Torture yourself?" _

All Blaine had ever done in his life was torture himself, hurt himself, make sure he hurt in some way, the smallest way would be enough, and every time, he'd tried, he'd always hurt people, but the people he hurt were either dead, like his parents and Stephen, or they were so far away, like Cooper in LA. All Blaine knew was that his aunt would never notice and neither was Kurt. He wasn't back in Dalton where everyone had piercing gazes and was always looking at Blaine and making sure he wasn't hurting – he was here, at McKinley instead, where everyone was oblivious to his pain, his problems…and everyone would never truly know what laid behind Blaine's supposedly innocent hazel eyes, a monster just waiting to unleash, one of greed, greed for food. Greed for the stage, just greedy. He was just a sin personified.

_Blaine had to lay down because he was having a coughing fit from his excessive purging. Stephen laid down beside him, rubbing his shoulder. "Bee, you're gonna die if you keep on fucking doing this." _

_Stephen rubbed Blaine's cheek. "Fuck it, Bee. You can't keep on doing this. You won't get through the summer." _

Sometimes, he had this illusion that someone will come save him. Maybe it would be someone like Kurt, or Sebastian, or maybe it would be Rory finding him sticking his fingers down his throat. Maybe it won't even be someone Blaine knew, just someone there, but nobody was ever there. If he was careful enough, nobody will ever know and Blaine intended on keeping it that way.

_"Is your Mother not taking care of you well?" Blaine's therapist had asked him._

_"My Mother does everything for me," Blaine snapped, his eyes were glistening under the light. He can nearly see his Mother's face crumble in tears as he realised what they all thought of her. "She's not sticking her fingers down my throat. I am. It's all me. I'm fucked up. My Mother does everything for me. She always has."_

They'd gotten him a therapist. They were so glad when he had recovered. Stephen told him that he'd go with him with the dance that Blaine had always wanted to go to. Blaine had had such beautiful grand hopes of Sadie Hawkins. He thought that he'd have it all, just them, being two boys just doing what normal people did – love each other, kiss sometimes, and look into each other's eyes when they wanted to forget the world sometimes, but Blaine had to fuck that up too. He fucked up everything. How hilariously so that he couldn't eat because he was so depressed after Sadie Hawkins. He had never developed anorexia nervosa, but he couldn't eat because of the memories, because all he wanted to do was sleep, and because he had no energy to do anything at all – not even eat the smallest morsel of food sometimes.

_"He weighs 115. He's so thin," his Mother had called out. She made Blaine weigh in that morning before he had breakfast. _

_"He doesn't look 115," Blaine would never forget how his aunt's eyes trailed down to his body. Amy shook her head. "He must have little bones. Just _look_ at that ass. He still has a tummy too." _

Blaine measured his bones. His wrists were small, around five point five inches. He had small bones, brittle ones. He'd broken them so quickly at Sadie Hawkins and he'd never forget how much pain his small bones went through, being crushed like that at that impact. He could not believe that even at 115, he did not look thin enough for quite a good deal of people. Blaine had looked through his phone. He'd taken two pictures he remembered. He stared at them and grimaced. He used to think he looked sickly, but all he can see was his thighs, his ass, his stomach…he was still so _huge_. Now, Blaine honestly just wanted to throw up, thinking that he was okay now, when he weighed this disgusting 152.4, or so his scale told him, that he was this much. He would never be enough.

Puck had told him to sing "Hot for Teacher" with him and some of the other guys. It was his time to shine – or rather, even in the background, he just can't stand in the choir room having have gained weight, so he just crash dieted. He ate two apples, a Greek salad, and some vegetable soup. Repeat the cycle until he needed to binge, and then he purged, but he still lost a bit more than two pounds, hitting 150.2 by the time that he had to perform "Hot for Teacher" with them.

All Blaine wanted to do was for Jayden to leave, because when Jayden left, Blaine can go back to living in that car, with all the things he deserved – which was absolutely nothing. He still revelled in a warm bed, and a hot shower, but it did not mean that he deserved any of it. He deserved nothing. He barely deserved what he had now and he had his Kurt. Kurt, oh Kurt, oh how he barely deserved Kurt.

During the performance, Blaine wore elongated stripes for his shirt and black pants. He hoped that he didn't look like a complete fatass. All he can feel was every speck of fat around his body, just existing there, something for him to cut off later on with a knife but he can't. All he wanted to do was shove a knife but he physically can't cut out the fat from his body and that killed him sometimes. Sometimes, Blaine just wanted to get better again already because all he did was puke his food. He wasn't even losing weight properly. He was destined to be fat, like it was written in his blood that Blaine Anderson was not supposed to end up all skin and bones. He looked up outpatient treatment and sometimes, he looked for inpatient ones. It had only been a month or so since Blaine had gotten back into binging and purging and yet, he was already looking for a way out, because everything was a sin. His gluttony was a sin and his purging was just a way to fix it. He'd decided not to after a while, but it didn't mean he didn't look it up every single day – outpatient, inpatient, therapy, drugs. Blaine knew quite a bit about it.

He walked with Kurt like everything hadn't changed, felt his hands on his own, and they laughed together. They laughed and they ignored it when Blaine's laugh sounded a little hallow. They ate a lunch that Blaine would inevitably purge. This time, it wouldn't come up so well, so he'd exercise, or he'd just lay down the ground and wallow in his self-pity for a long time. Sometimes, Blaine lied to Kurt and told him he was busy, just so he wouldn't have to eat because he can't be in the bathroom for long without Kurt being suspicious. That was what Blaine always told himself, as he spent thirty minutes in the bathroom, coming out with swollen cheeks and bloodshot eyes just to notice that Kurt was paying attention to his phone and hadn't even quite well noticed he was gone. Never had Kurt called him out on his scarred callouses. Blaine can see Stephen again most of the times, in a way that was almost like a dream.

_"This is stupid!" Stephen snapped, shaking Blaine by his shoulders. "This is a stupid and meaningless pursuit! You're going to get down to some stupid low weight that your body can't handle and then what, Blaine? What do you want from that?"_

_Blaine's lower lip was trembling. _

_"Are you going to stop?" was Stephen's only words. "No, you're not, are you? This is fucking ridiculous. This is suicide. This is…"_

_Blaine inched upwards to kiss him and Stephen melted in the kiss. He always did. Stephen's hands would go around Blaine's waist, near delirium, like it was all a drug. Stephen would push him backwards on the bed. Blaine didn't really understand, but they'd kiss. Their clothes would be off, Stephen's hand would trail down Blaine's body. In fifteen minutes, Stephen's mouth would be against Blaine's bare back. In an hour, Blaine would be in Stephen's arms and Stephen would ask, like he always would, "you're gonna keep it in you now, won't you?"_

_And Blaine would respond, like he always would, "Yes." _

It wasn't going so well at home anymore. Jayden picked at Blaine and Amy didn't do much to stop him. Blaine can almost imagine his Mother there, snapping at every word Jayden would say, or his Father storming out in anger. He can almost see them there, defending him when Blaine didn't have enough self-worth to defend himself. It was only yesterday had Jayden called him stupid, incompetent and fat all in the same sentence when Blaine had been eating lunch, and hiding Snickers bar under the sleeve of his jacket as he 'searched' cupboards. Anything he wanted, he shoved in a pocket or under his sleeves and then left – eating thousands calories in the span of two hours. Ten Snickers bars, a generous helping of lasagne that somehow turned into three and a huge milkshake Blaine had assembled out of another Snickers bar, chocolate milk, sugar, more milk, peanut butter and Reese's. The sugar rush made Blaine sick and the purge was quicker than usual because of the milkshake.

In about a week, Blaine was able to finish half of his aunt's kitchen. Literally. He snuck out in mornings to buy loaves of bread that he struggled not to binge on. He tried to replace everything again, but it was hard when all he wanted to do was binge. He'd taken money from Jayden's wallet to do this. He had stolen money from Jayden's wallet – Blaine told himself it was only once, but it kept happening. He was a disgusting sin. Stealing money, when he had some in his pocket all the time, but he was afraid – so very afraid he'd be kicked out of the household so he wanted to have some money in his wallet. If he can just go to his house, he can get his parent's money and spend it on binge food if he wanted. Ha. How his proud would his parents be of him now, seeing him relapse and go back to binging and purging. How proud would they be to see that their son was thinking of using the money they'd collected in the span of their twenty-year marriage for emergencies just to use it on food that he'll puke up again.

Blaine was disgusted at how he was always on a state of falling apart, but he never truly fell apart, did he? Oh, sweet Blainey, sweet stupid naïve Blainey.

He was leaving tonight. He ate his last meal and purged that one out, along with a box of chocolate truffles, and a milkshake that tasted like vanilla. Blaine purged under his throat burned, and then he went to pack. He left the house half an hour after Jayden left. Amy just ran her hand through his hair and muttered something about the fact that if he ever needed to go back to Dalton, she'd be there. Blaine didn't deserve Dalton. He didn't even deserve life as it was. He was alive for far too long. Stephen wasn't. His parents weren't. They were all so young. His Mother never got to go to Paris like she planned, or see Rome, and his Father never got to have a baby girl like he'd always wanted. Stephen wanted to be a writer.

For the first time since Stephen had died, Blaine had finally pulled that sketchbook. He felt like he was fifteen again, trying to draw out the world. He flipped through pages of sketches – most of them were of Stephen, some of them were of his parents, some of Cooper, and he had one self-portrait. He stared at his self-portrait – a boy with disgusting thighs, huge hips, and shoulders that were far too broad. Blaine's last sketch was of Stephen, unfinished, and Blaine licked his lip, picked up his set of pencil gradients and then he just drew. He drew like his life depended on it, remembering every curve of Stephen's face. It was all too familiar, like Stephen was right in front of him. The face that haunted him for too long, and every tender characteristic of him. The memories were fresh, raw, and painful. He spent the night next in his car, with a flashlight beaming on the page as he just drew. He was finished. It was the first time he'd cried for Stephen in a long time.

He then flipped the page, and started to draw. The first thing he drew was himself, a boy with those disgusting thighs, that stupid stomach, that horribly broad shoulder but everything seemed all the more worse. He can feel every ripple of fat with the pencil, as he drew it. He drew it, and then he tapped it on the backseat. It was two am. He then finally went to sleep.

Will and Shelby were trying to reunite the New Directions and the Troubletones together. A few days later, Blaine was just sitting the choir room, feeling antisocial. His body was covered with a thin stripped blouse and on top of that, a thick sweater. The layers made him feel like he was hiding himself. He wished he can. Finn walked up towards Mr Schue when they were talking about reunion and he looked up only to say.

"I think we should give this solo to the new guy," and Blaine's heart was thudding quickly. He can nearly hear his name being called out. His eyes perked up slightly. He can feel how excited he was, because all he needed was this small escape, this self-purge on the stage he was so used to…

"Get him prepared for what's in store when the stakes get high." Blaine can nearly feel like his life-story was being unravelled before him with that comment. It _had_ to be him. Finn was looking in his direction after all, but he had that small smile that made Blaine know otherwise. "Rory, I think you'll do a good job."

His name – Rory – in Blaine's heart, twisting slowly. He didn't just want that solo, but he needed it. He needed that self-purging, that ability to escape with an audience, show them what he had…show them all of his pain in the only beautiful way Blaine knew how. _You're an artist,_ another part of him snapped, but Blaine didn't care. As far as he knew, his dreams of art reminded him of Stephen, but somehow, his dreams of Broadway reminded him of his parents. It was like being caged in darkness because of the things that solely made him happy. He almost felt like it was because of how he looked, shifting, feeling every gram of fat in his body, solidifying at the judgment. Blaine knew it was just a feeling, but the feeling manifested in ways that Blaine can't shake off. He couldn't shake off the feeling because it felt like it was a part of him, pressing against his skin, evolving, making him fatter by the second. It was almost like he was going to look down and see he had stubbier fingers, and thicker thighs.

"Thanks, Finn, but I don't think I'm ready for that honour just yet," Rory had chimed in.

Blaine knew Finn didn't say him, because he hated every fibre of his being, so that was why Blaine turned around, with this iciness in his heart, this self-righteousness growing as he said.

"Come on! You're totally ready, Rory. You'll kill it. We'll all help you." He nodded his head towards Finn as if just to show him how mystical and amazing he was. "It's a great idea, Finn."

He knew why he said it. He knew it was just because he wanted to look like he was a good sport, but on the inside, he was slightly crushed, especially since all he'd ever wanted was to purge, purge physically, emotionally, and in every single way. He swore one day that singing was the only thing that kept him so stable for so long, and helped him keep up this façade of an existence. It was the only thing that was worth it all for him. He lived to go back home and watch musicals on repeat, laughing and singing to himself. He can hear their pains with their emotions, the dance, their voices – it all became so clear, so vivid and beautiful, a picture after another in the most abstract of illusions. That was what singing was to Blaine.

Finn looked uncertain as he thanked Blaine.

Blaine didn't blame him, because he'd be uncertain too.

That night was also a dinner night with Kurt, whom had insisted on bringing Blaine back home. Burt spoke loudly about the campaign. Kurt just sighed, rolling his eyes frequently and leaning towards Blaine to apologise every five minutes for Burt's only topic of the evening being Sue's horrible campaign. Blaine was served macaroni and cheese – it was such a childhood food for Blaine that his stomach hurt him when he saw it. He had only eaten an apple for breakfast, just to save calories for this one meal, yet he couldn't bring himself to eat, because of the fresh memories, gnawing into his brain.

"I thought you aren't lacto intolerant anymore, because apparently, it was triggered by food poisoning and now it's gone away?" Kurt raised an eyebrow at Blaine's lack of food. Blaine knew his lactose intolerance went away quite early on, especially since he caught himself binging and purging on various dairy products and then forcing himself to throw up. His lactose intolerance had not even lasted for more than a week to be honest, Blaine realised. He had once accidentally put in milk in his coffee by habit. Apparently, Sebastian seemed to find this amusing as he bought him a muffin. This time around, Blaine would do anything to have that muffin but at the same time, he was disgusted at himself for wanting that muffin. He still ate it and even a week later, he still regretted eating it. He cannot go to the bathroom after he ate as Sebastian was not as oblivious as Kurt and was apparently very attentive to things. Blaine always wore huge long-sleeved jackets that covered his knuckles, and sometimes mittens because he was honestly cold. Sebastian once brought him close to caress his cheek only to mention something about freezing to fucking death. "Blaine, are you trying to lose weight?" Kurt raised an eyebrow.

Blaine shook his head. "I'm not a big fan of mac and cheese," he was the biggest fan of mac and cheese.

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Is that even possible?"

Finn looked like he wasn't hungry at all and Blaine noticed his slight issue with food, like he didn't want to get fatter, and he can see the slight consciousness in those eyes. Every time Santana spat out a comment towards Finn, Blaine felt as if it was directed towards him, as if it was the hatred that he'll receive if he ever got like that. His head spun with numbness, almost as if Santana was talking about his man boobs or his thighs or his gut, and he'd find himself staring into the mirror all the time, watching as those words slowly formed and came true as the fat became more and more visible, almost like a dark illusion.

Blaine just smiled, and pushed his plate aside without touching it – as if he had truly hated the contents of it. He can almost just feel the chemicals and see it all seep under his skin. He knew this was Kraft's just from the looks of it – Kraft meant sodium tripolyphosphate, which was often used as an ingredient in detergents. It didn't even help Blaine knowing that there was no known risk to it, and that it was a common food preservative, but yellow 5 and yellow 6 as an ingredient made Blaine's stomach hurt. All these chemicals making his head pound, as he thought of consuming something that didn't benefit his body. If he wanted to eat, he wanted to eat something that would give him the smallest dose of energy, something good, something that will fill him up—he can eat two boxes of Kraft and still not feel how much it actually was and he had. It was slick when he purged that up after his family meals, which made Blaine nearly cringe in disgust. Blaine just shook his head and mentioned having a warm dinner at home when he came back, stating that his parents probably cooked something up and put it in the microwave for him. Kurt bought it quite quickly, but Carole wanted him to at least have the horrifically high sodium soup because she felt guilty so she heated up some canned soup for him. It tasted delicious and Blaine honestly wanted to bless her heart. She got him some bread as well and Kurt was just sitting there, watching Blaine eat for the most bit.

_The first time Blaine was caught, he was in his parents' bathroom. His fingers stuck down his throat. He didn't gag anymore, just shoving his finger as deep as it went, feeling his throat ache already. His parents were out – they were supposed to be out, Blaine saw them leave. It was to be a quick purge, not even five minutes. He didn't think it mattered if he shut the bathroom first or not. He spluttered up a wave of white from the pasta sauce, then the door slowly opened to reveal his Mother. Blaine suddenly noticed her earrings near the sink, the earrings she always wore when she went out. Her eyes filled with shock, as she noticed her son's fingers were nowhere where they should have belonged. He'd purged a good half of his meal by then and the porcelain bowl was filled with bits of pasta and creamy sauce._

_"Blaine?" she said his name like she didn't even know who he was, something he'd never forget. "What are you doing?" she knew exactly what he was doing, but she felt inclined to ask._

_He can nearly feel tears bubble into his eyes, as she leaned downwards to force him to stare into her eyes. "Blaine." She said his name again, and this time, it was harder on his ears._

_Blaine can only think of one thing to say. "I'm sorry." He felt so uncomfortable sitting there, feeling all of those calories in his body. She around caught him, might as well finish the job even if he'd break her heart – her heart was already broken. Might as well save a few calories along the way. He turned and shoved his fingers again as far deep as they went, gagging again, and wave after wave of calories just spewed from his stomach. He groaned at the sharp feeling in his stomach and his Mother pushed him backwards from the toilet bowl. _

_"I'm sorry," he whispered towards his Mother. "I just…"_

_"Blaine, what the hell was that?" she placed a hand on his cheek. _

_His Mother was shaking. He wouldn't meet her eyes for the first few moments, but then he did, and they were staring at each other for the longest of time. Her eyes filled with hysteria when his only mirrored shame and fear, fear that he will become a fat nothing if he stopped, because all he ever did was eat and he can't eat and let those calories rest in his body anymore. He stared at her for the longest of times, before Joseph's voice rang into the room. "Maria, you've got to be kidding me! Those earrings don't take that long to find! They're near the sink—"_

_He stopped when he found them, and his eyes quickly went to the setting. "Did he throw up, May? Is he sick?"_

_"Tell him," was his Mother's only statement she said._

_Blaine's eyes widened. He looked up into his Father's eyes, slowly standing up from where he was at. He knew his Father always needed him to look into his eyes. His voice was becoming incoherent from the pain in his throat, as it swelled up. His eyes filled with tears. "I throw up my food," his voice was soft. "I'm fat and I always want to cut out the fat in my body with a knife. I sneak in food in my room just to eat it and throw it up again and your money on the nightstand goes missing just because I keep on ordering from three different restaurants on Fridays, just to eat it up and throw it back up."_

_He felt his Father push his chin upwards. "Listen to me," and then Blaine's eyes filled even more, hot tears sliding down faster. "Don't you ever, dare I say it, ever do this to yourself _ever_ again in your entire life, Blaine? Do you understand?"_

_Blaine slowly nodded his head and then with a soft voice whispered, "Okay." _

* * *

_xo Peanut Butter/Sam_


	5. Chapter 5

_I'm sorry for not updating any sooner, but can you blame me – each chapter is more or less 10-12 pages which is quite difficult to write in one day if I do say so myself. Now, onto the horrendous part of this equation – the laptop that had all my Glee in it just died, so I have to try a little harder to watch these things online. _

* * *

Chapter 5

* * *

A cold shiver went up Blaine's spine when he had heard _that_ voice again.

"Sebastian means nothing to me," it was a jeer, a dark mock, and Blaine found himself regretting every syllable of that statement, as he turned around to see Sebastian standing there with brilliant green eyes that held too much darkness for them to be ignored. Blaine should've known that he was there somehow, lurking in the shadows after the Tony fiasco.

Blaine found himself trying to tone out the anguish that he was feeling in his chest. It was a mixture of guilt, and guilt he'd deserved for even saying those words so carelessly, for saying things that he did not mean at the expense of others. Blaine had been standing in line in the Lima Bean, thinking of nothing more than what to buy – restriction or binge, black coffee or a sweet syrupy mocha that was going to fill him with nothing more than dread along with a croissant the size of his ass.

"I didn't mean it," Blaine finally said, sounding stronger than he felt. He always did. His teeth were gritted and he found himself automatically ordering a medium drip when he came up to the front line. Weak. He should've been able to decide that without Sebastian standing there, taunting him for his words, but he couldn't hate Sebastian because Sebastian had a point.

Blaine felt Sebastian's hand wander off to Blaine's shoulder. His grip was tight, and all Blaine can think about was the fat that localised in that area, disgusting – putrid fat that was widespread all over his body, scattered in globs and fistfuls of lard that he can grab with his hand.

Sebastian's turn came up and he ordered himself a latte, asking for a bit of alcohol to be in it. Blaine had not caught the name of the alcohol, but what else would Sebastian be ordering in his coffee? Chocolate syrup made him feel sick, and caramel was too heavy. He complained that hazelnut syrups ruined the taste. Extra sugar was unnecessary, and ordering things in 'skinny' versions was just hilarious.

Blaine had waited for his order, and taken the cup when it was prepared. His medium drip coffee that was barely any calories. He found himself staring at Sebastian for a few moments, and it suddenly dawned on him how thin he was. He had never thought of it, but Sebastian was ridiculously thin. Now, Blaine was flushing rather feverishly, thinking of how he must have looked like standing next to the brunette. He must have looked obscenely obese next to the effortlessly beautiful Sebastian Smythe.

Blaine shut his eyes. He wondered how he just realised this, how thin Sebastian was, and now, his mind was elusively making it worse. With every movement Sebastian made, all Blaine can see was his bony shoulders, his thin waist, his tiny thighs, and his tall frame. He wore it so well. Blaine swore that as Sebastian approached, he looked thinner instead of fatter, and this made him feel sick. Sebastian was passing by just so that he can get extra napkins. Blaine was still staring, realising that it was horrifically rude for him to do so but he couldn't help it.

His mind was instead raking up how thin Sebastian was, how he'd never ever come up to par with the tall brunette no matter how hard he tried. Soon after the jealousy had set in, so did the hatred – some of it was directed towards Sebastian, but most of it directed to himself. He hated Sebastian for being able to drink this latte and alcohol concoction without worrying about his waistline. He hated him for the fact that he used normal sugar in his coffee, and that he didn't worry about calories.

His mind was trying to calculate how much Sebastian weighed in that one minute, but he was at a loss. He was just staring at Sebastian as he moved so eloquently. His shoulders may be spaced out and broad, but his body looked brittle. He looked brittle. His mind raked up impossible weights. He looked like he weighed no more than sixty kilos (his mind was silently converting that to pounds, as the scale he used in was pounds, but oh, he was never a pounds person. He used to weigh in kilos all the time, but there was something so distressing about being seventy kilos and so short that made him feel sick.)

Somehow, as Sebastian moved, all Blaine can do was hope that Sebastian would let his weight slip out of his tongue. He can always ask, as he'd done nothing to let the brunette suspect that he was obsessed with his weight, but oh, was he obsessed. He was so obsessed that he was looking for any signs of protruding bone on Sebastian, and somehow knew that his hipbones were sharp, and his spine was sharper. His eyes were silently undressing Sebastian, not for the lust, but for the pure and utter need to know how the brunette looked like so unprotected. The bones were like flowers flourishing from Sebastian's body, and he had to see the flowers to hope for the rain to bestow upon his seedless crop.

He remembered standing in front of the mirror, a few months after the Sadie Hawkins dance, with circles under his eyes, and delicacy in his frame. He remembered his hand wandering off to his hipbones, trembling terribly. _Look at you;_ he swore he can nearly hear Stephen's voice, like a tingle in his spine. _Can't date a skeleton, Blainey. Can't date a skeleton. _

"Sebastian," Blaine said his name as if he was under a spell. "I'm sorry," he said, not knowing how true his words were.

Sebastian looked at Blaine as if he was insane before a small but sincere smile crossed his lips. "Can't stay mad at you, Blainey," he muttered, shaking his head. "Can't," he reinforced.

It was that nickname slithering under his skin; the way that Blaine had said it just reminded him of Stephen. He somehow found a very small smile forming on his own lips, thinking of the fact that he was an exception to the rule and that made him feel happy if only for a small moment. "Hey, Sebastian," he knew it was a horrible question to ask but he can't help himself. "Uh, how much do you weigh?"

Sebastian snorted, rubbing his neck and shrugging. Blaine knew that Sebastian was six-foot-two, something that the brunette was too proud not to state. "I'm about fifty-eight kilos. Pretty damn small framed. I mean people think I look fatter, good for them."

"Wow," Blaine shook his head. "That's amazing." And horrific at the same time somehow.

He watched as Sebastian flexed just to show off the muscles that were practically microscopic to Blaine's eyes. Sometimes, Blaine wondered how Sebastian can weigh so little and look so normal. Somehow, Blaine's mind was morphing Sebastian's weight on him – it was almost as if his bones were thinning by the moment, and his skin getting paler and drier now. His collarbones seemed dangerously prominent, and he wondered if those feminine hands looked as skeletal as Blaine was seeing them. He could not help but see it as so. His eyes bent reality, and reality was but an image.

His self-loathing also had a great deal of loathing directed to Sebastian, and lust – somehow, he wanted to yank the brunette's head back and press his lips against Sebastian's own until the skin from Sebastian's lip was being pulled off by Blaine's teeth. He'd never felt so much lust for someone before, yet lust was just as it was – lust was lust. It was a need for sex, not a need for attachment or connection. It meant absolutely nothing.

Sebastian shrugged, and Blaine sipped his coffee along with him. He laughed here and there, though his laugh sounded hollow to his ears, or perhaps there was something wrong with his ears. He wouldn't be surprised if that was the case since everything else was wrong with him. He wondered how one body can withstand so much without breaking apart completely under the tensile and compressive stress it was being placed in. He just wondered, as he heard Sebastian speak. He tried not to stare at his body, those slender legs and beautiful neck. His mind drifted off to nowhere after some time, just a cavern of clouds built on fantasy.

After meeting up with Sebastian, the bulimic had found himself standing in line with a thousand huge bags of crisps, and chocolate bars in his hands. He had a pint of ice-cream before him. Everything seemed like a blur of Walkers, Cadbury and Ben and Jerry's. Everything seemed like a blur of colourful packets that promoted health benefits that junk food did not have. He had just realised that he wanted a croissant as well, and the craving was strong so he found himself standing in the bread aisle staring straight at croissants, and doughnuts. He'd have all of them. That fifty that he'd had saved up – he'd spent so much of it in one go, and he was afraid that this fifty would not fuel him for a day much less a week.

His hands were shaking as he picked up doughnuts from the aisle, and then he looked up catching a figure standing by the bread section. He'd sworn he'd recognise that distinctive jaw, that messy blonde hair, tall stature, and sloppy appearance anywhere in the world. It was the very thing that haunted his dreams. Blaine's heart fluttered, as he shook his head. No, Stephen was dead. Stephen was dead. Stephen was—when the boy turned around, Blaine could've sworn it was him. It was those eyes, that glint of that brown that made Blaine melt in his position.

He had only stared at him for some time, trying to process the idea of chasing him. He had dropped all the pastries that were in his hand, and his shopping cart was left abandoned full of binge food. He ran like he was on that trail, running for perfection. He can see that the boy had played for the bread and had left, and Blaine ran straight after him. The car that he got into was identifiable but Blaine could've sworn...

_You're crazy,_ a part of his mind spat out. _You are crazy. Stephen's dead. Stephen's dead because of you. He's not wandering around in a supermarket looking for bread. Stephen doesn't even like bread. He said it himself that bread makes you FAT. Fuck it. Why were you in the bread aisle anyway, Blaine? Did you really need to make your thighs expand even more? Are you really going to purge bread now?_

He had to see it for himself, that that was Stephen. He had to. As far as he knew, Stephen was pronounced dead. Everyone hated him for it. He had no contact with Stephen's parents for years because of it, but now, he'd have to – to know if Stephen was actually alive or not. _ARE YOU LISTENING TO YOURSELF? You saw Stephen die in front of you for God's sake, Blaine!_

But that hair...those eyes... he swore—

Blaine shook his head again, and decided to leave the place. He shouldn't have been looking for any goddamned sugar, fat and sodium anyway. Like his hips needed anymore of that shit. He had left the supermarket, feeling disturbed and confused. For once, he'd somehow managed to push the thought of food to the back of his mind (though he was still somewhat thinking about it and glad that this can be his so called appetite suppressant). His thoughts were mostly composed of the boy he'd seen, that very boy that seemed so much like Stephen.

It couldn't be him, could it?

* * *

149.4lbs.

* * *

Blaine Anderson had given Kurt the fifty dollars that he had yet to spend that week, but it was only a bit in, and he was already thinking of the things he wanted to buy. His cellular plan and price of petrol was quite a bit. Kurt had asked him why, and Blaine had confessed to him recklessly spending his money on food. All of it, gone in less than a week. That he needed Kurt to keep account of his spending, and he'd said all of this with a soft flush to his cheeks. Kurt had decided to smile, shake his head and poke at his stomach. "So, you're being fed quite nicely, aren't you?"

Blaine would never tell Kurt that that was what he'd done when he was stranded in his car afterwards, just poke at his stomach repeatedly. Supposedly rock hard, but he loathed that about it. He loathed his muscular frame, something that he used to love, something that he'd built out of his own hands. Now, he wanted to destroy it. He wanted to destroy every bit of himself and leave nothing but thinness to prevail. As far as he knew, his intent was safe, as Kurt thought that he was 'being fed quite nicely', wasn't he?

* * *

66.3kg.

* * *

He didn't know how it happened. He found himself grinning the next time he stood on Sebastian's scale, the one he'd kept in his room, stashed underneath his books. Sebastian was showering by then, and Blaine had gotten accustomed to the brunette's room. Blaine had stowed Sebastian's scale away yet again, and found himself standing there mindlessly muttering to himself. He wondered if the number was a fluke on his scale, yet his pants told him something differently. It fit looser around his terribly huge tummy, and his thighs seemed to be a bit smaller according to what he was wearing but right now, the mirror told him a different story.

He looked all but the same.

* * *

64.3kg.

* * *

He was starved, shaking, and convoluting on the edge of his seat by the time he weighed in at that number. His eyes were wide with pain, and his hands were shaking. He was so dizzy from hunger that it overtook him. He mewled, and curled up into his hands. His weight loss was not a subject at all, not to the New Directions, not to the teachers that caught glimpses of him every day and not to the cashier behind the Lima Bean store that saw him nearly twice every single day. He just didn't know how to go about it.

Then he heard it. "You look thinner," it was said with a growl, as if he didn't like how that sounded, and of course, he wouldn't.

Blaine watched as Sebastian Smythe offered to buy him a muffin. What Blaine did not tell him that that was the first meal he'd had in days and it was not a meal at all. His body was depleted of food, and only had the smallest bits here and there. Often, he'd get nauseous from the lack of food in his body, and he'd thrown up bile a great deal in the last few days. He'd also managed to drop nearly ten pounds this week. He'd know he'd put some of it back on. He knew that he shouldn't resist Sebastian's offering, as to not raise suspicion.

So he ate, and then he hungered for more. He tried to hide his hands away. Kurt had asked him if he'd put foundation on his face that morning and Blaine had lied and said he had, only for Kurt to tell him that his foundation was making him look far too pale for Kurt's liking. He still laughed, and smiled, still somehow seemed so Blaine in front of everyone else, but in front of Sebastian, the mask fell and all the flowers died, and nothing was left but ashes to ashes. That was exactly what Blaine Anderson was made out of. Ashes, dust in the wind, all of those things.

How ironic for him to be any of these things when he was not feather light at all.

"You're little framed," Sebastian realised, grabbing Blaine's hand from where it laid on the table. "Like me."

There was something about that statement that left Blaine distraught, but he slowly nodded his head. Simply because in his mind, he felt like there was no association with him and Sebastian, not frame, not height, and definitely not weight.

"How much do you weigh?"

That was the question that Blaine was dreading. He felt all of the moisture leave his throat, as it burned in some sort of fire. The coffee he was sipping on was suddenly too drab for his liking. The world was grey and greyer still. The thought of answering the question left Blaine feeling defeated. "Sixty four," he rounded it, not wanting to sound overly obsessive that he had the number memorised.

Sebastian nodded his head, letting his hand trail towards Blaine's shoulder. "You've got so much muscle, Bee. Fuck."

Muscle weight, fat weight or water weight – Blaine did not want to weigh that absurd amount. In pounds, he was but 141.6, a significant decrease down from what he once was. He'd learned to work in pounds, because Kurt did, and now, he did do sometimes. Sebastian worked in kilos, and Blaine liked it that way sometimes. His Mother had worked in pounds, and so did his Father, but Blaine had always had a scale that worked in kilos, and always spat out numbers that they did not quite understand.

"I guess," Blaine looked out of the window. He can see a faint lining of his reflection. He just didn't look any thinner.

After his and Sebastian's coffee date, Blaine found himself driving mindlessly to Kurt's election. He was going to tell Kurt to borrow some money for some petrol for his car, and only that because he cannot be trusted with a bit more because a bit more can easily morph into puddles of gummy bears at his lap, and cola-cola candies littering the seats. He suddenly realised how guiltless he'd been meeting up with Sebastian incessantly these past few weeks.

Simply because Kurt was busy did not mean that he was allowed to do such things yet that was what Blaine found himself doing. He went to Sebastian's house, and they laughed there. He had met Sebastian's Mother, and Blaine had even helped decide Sebastian on a tattoo – though Blaine had honestly been shocked the moment that Sebastian said he was getting a tattoo. Sebastian was incredibly indecisive when it came to it. Blaine had seen Sebastian with his shirt off because they were deciding on where to place the tattoo.

Blaine suddenly realised that he'd touched Sebastian's skin, so close to sin. He'd ran his hand down that cold skin, seeing him shiver underneath that touch. Just as he'd predicted, Sebastian had a horribly sharp spine, hipbones and a faint lining to his ribs, but what caught his eyes most were his bony shoulder blades. He wanted to press his lips against that, simply because he knew his lips – though cold – would be warmer. Now, that Blaine was remembering all of these memories all he can feel was self-disgust.

How could he have done all of this and felt none of the guilt associated with such sin? He should be praying to God for remorse for his actions. He should be praying to God for refuge from the darkness—yet here he was, starving himself relentlessly, giving his boyfriend money, and fixated on nothing more than losing weight. He'd submitted to a monster created by self somehow.

He tried to push these thoughts way to go down towards the election. Kurt was counting on him, and he cannot be thinking about how much of a fuck-up in life he was at those moments. He'd promised himself that at least. This was Kurt's moment. Kurt, whom had been pushed to the back of his mind, for irrelevant things – such as a boy whom had been dead for too long that he thought he'd saw and another one that should have stayed a stranger. Now, he also felt bad, for the fact that he wasn't giving Sebastian the justice that he'd deserved when Sebastian had done everything in his power to make himself Blaine's saving grace.

It was in that election that things started to go fuzzy.

Kurt's introduction was fine. "Hello. I'm Kurt Hummel," he stood there looking proud and beautiful, and just about everything that Kurt was – porcelain angel. "I've been trying to address the real problem of obesity at this school..."

Now, here was where his mind had blocked out everything else. It was almost as if Kurt was talking about him, but Kurt wasn't talking about him and he knew that much. He just couldn't help but feel his stomach coil as he thought about it. He had just come to this school, and if obesity was such a problem, then he'd heard about it before? He swore his thighs could not get any fatter and his hands could not become any bigger. Small frame his ass. Everything was coated and covered in fat. It was a miracle he even had a frame.

"...well, I refuse to be bullied. In fact, I refuse to let anyone be bullied..."

Kurt's speech was fuzzy, and he couldn't have kept to it. His heart was pounding in his chest and his breathing had been constricted. He was suddenly aware of his body, too aware. Aware of every scrap of fat, every pound, every inch, and suddenly, they were expanding – bit by bit. He can feel the fat in his body, jiggling with his every movement. A quick jerk would cause his stomach to spill over his jeans, and his button to fly through the auditorium and hit Kurt's eye and send him to the ER.

"...it's violent and it's painful and it's humiliating..."

Now, all Blaine can think about was that one time they've done it. Glued together bit by bit. He can remember the feeling that he had with Stephen. He can remember sitting on that very chair that Blaine used to cuddle with his cat with, crying because everything seemed to unravel before his eyes, because he was violated, because it was violent, and painful and he was left humiliated. Kurt wasn't talking about that, was he? He shook his head. He was talking about dodgeball, but he could've sworn that...

_No_.

He knew he was bending reality, but this time, the disorientation could be stopped no matter how real it sounded. Or maybe not. Kurt was done with his speech and Blaine stood up decked in his blue and red jacket. The waistband of his pants were hitting his stomach too hard, and he swore that he could not breathe. He could even begin to breathe.

Then what he'd dubbed as the Santana situation happened. She was outed, and suddenly, the memories fled back again, hitting him like a knife. He had to talk to Stephen's parents. He had to see if Stephen was okay. He was guilty, guilty for the fact that he didn't care about Santana. All he cared about was himself. Selfish Blaine. Selfish, selfish, selfish – but could he be blamed really when the world seemed to dull out his pain as if it were mere background music?

Perhaps. Perhaps not.

Finn wanted the Glee club to rejoice to make Santana feel better. When Finn had told her that there were always going to be people that were going to support her for what she was, he snorted. Nobody would support an eating disordered boy that wanted to murder himself through self-purging. Nobody would support him if he knew what he'd done – the murder he committed, the acts of darkness that lay in that skin of his.

"Blaine. Kurt." Finn introduced them to let them get up.

Blaine's shirt was an older one and it fit him perfectly – grey, a nice pretty grey actually. He wore a bowtie. He thought he looked fine for one. Yes, fat, but at least his clothing choices were not as horrid as they could have been. Blaine was supposed to introduce their song choice to Santana under Kurt's decision. "Santana, Kurt and I have a song we like to sing to each other in the car, and we want to sing that for you right now."

The car. The car simply because it was the everything for Blaine right now. He was always talking about his car when he spoke of 'the car' – the scent of its leather, the suffocating atmosphere, the tight environment. It was the car. He somehow felt his stomach drop. He did not want a song with the word 'perfect' in the title. He did not want this, because he was nowhere near perfect. Speaking about perfection made him feel like a target, as if someone was going to realise just how obsessed with the word and idea of perfection he was.

Just to add assault to injury, Santana seemed to have snidely remarked to this. "Well, there's nothing I love more than having two pretty ponies serenade me. I think we'd get further staging against a giant gellervention for Blaine than singing lady music."

If she was saying stuff like that about things he was not insecure with, then what was she thinking about the things he was insecure with? Like his walrus weight. He was standing there, calm and collected outside, but inside laid a panic in his wake.

Kurt didn't say anything to her against what she'd said about him. He was a bit gutted at that. "I know it's hard," he began. "It was hard for me too, but you can get through this."

"If you'd just stop being so defensive—"Blaine added on, only to be cut off by Santana.

"I'm trying," she gave him a sickly sweet smile that made him feel more than just a little nauseous, 'but your hideous bowties are provoking me." And there was it again, hitting him in places that he lacked insecurity in, but suddenly, he was far too aware.

"Wait, are we talking lady on lady or girl on girl? 'Cause there's a big difference," chimed in Puck irrelevantly. Mr Schue though to bring them back to the topic, and tell Kurt and Blaine to start off. Blaine honestly did not want to sing, but when Kurt's melodic voice filled the air, all he can do was melt in his position. He stared at Kurt, completely mesmerised. He always was when it came to Kurt. He simply had this ability to do just that regardless of what he was singing. Blaine swore that Kurt's voice was so angelic sometimes that the words that flew out of his mouth were near prophecies.

They sang together, in some sort of harmony. He was amazed at how he can be in sync with Kurt. His heart fluttered in his chest. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered that Kurt was the one chasing him. It sounded so surreal right now, nearly impossible now that he thought about it. They sang to each other's tones, and Blaine felt free from the moment – he didn't know from what, but he was as free as a warbler.

He found himself holding Kurt by his shoulders after the song was done – his scent lingered in the air, his cologne in his nose. _Kurt_.

He was waiting for feedback, somehow flying high even without it. The rush of the stage, the self-purging, the beauty, the pain, the lack of pain, the emptiness, the absence of it – just the meaning behind each syllable that had slid out of his tongue.

Santana's feedback was not something that he had ever thought he'd need to hear. She looked snide in her position, with her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes burning with some sort of destructive delight. "Thank you, guys. Thank you, Finn, especially," somehow, with this so called sweet introduced, his stomach churned and bubbled with insecurity. "You know with all the horrible crap I've been through in my life – now, I get to add that."

Kurt and him looked back at her, slightly dejected. Kurt didn't say a word, but Blaine found himself unable to say anything against it. He felt as if she'd criticised every good aspect about him, and he was now left, stripped to nothing but this.

He could tell that she'd be stand-offish this entire week. He didn't need her to say so. He could tell that things would just spiral out of control with her, but he can also somehow tell that they'd get out of this unscathed. His prediction was reinforced later on in the week when Finn was hugged tightly after a song, and a bit of heart to heart. Blaine didn't honestly feel like he existed there during that week, not in Glee at least. His mind, body and soul was invested in Kurt, Stephen and Sebastian – in that order, the correct one for once.

He can remember Kurt realising that he'd lost. He had not gone to Blaine, but he'd gone to Rachel. He had lost the elections that were his sole drive for so long, and Blaine felt his heart give out to him, but the fact that he'd gone to Rachel first made him feel insecure. In his head, he was running over all possible weights she was at, at her height, and even though he knew her weight would dress differently to his frame – he still found himself struggling to accept it. He recalled hearing 50kg from Finn once, 110, perfect, lithe, fragile-sounding. He paused for a few moments, and realised that that would be a perfect weight to be at. Just a bit below where he was during those darker days.

He wondered if he could, and then thought if he should...it sounded so _drastic_ of a change, then not drastic enough. He rubbed his neck. He was 115 and fat before. Surely, five more pounds would not be good enough to achieve his perfection? Then again, he was two inches shorter. Perhaps, perhaps, 110 may be the key. His mind was swirling with thoughts. He stood there more determined than ever. Blaine realised that Kurt would not talk to him about his election-related frustrations, and he, in turn, should not feel bad for not telling him about his weight, Stephen, or Sebastian.

Thinking of the last one, something so interrelated with Kurt left him feeling slightly sick. He knew that logically he should tell Kurt – about Sebastian at least, but fear was a harder drive than love this time. Just as he found himself standing there stoically, Kurt had walked up to him with a very soft smile and sharp nod to his head. "Let's go get lunch."

Blaine would have told himself that he was lying if he said that he'd forgotten there was a lunch period. Every day, he'd be debating whether or not to eat. After realising how distant Kurt was getting, Blaine thought that the only perfect thing for him to do was wait until Kurt offered to go to lunch. This was exactly what was happening now, except instead of an offer, it was a near demand and Blaine was always the obedient.

Blaine followed Kurt straight into the lunch hall. He was in a fleet of fear and absurd anticipation. He wanted to eat. He wanted nothing more than to eat. It had been thirty-six hours since his last morsel, and this entire idea of fasting was disgusting. He seemed to put on quite a bit regardless of what he'd eaten, so this was where his logic came in and he started looking for whatever he wanted served down the lunch line. Of course, this meant that he putting a horrible amount of calories on his plate.

_It's okay,_ a part of him was convinced otherwise. _You just won't eat for another day. Don't worry._

Blaine's hands were shaky. He knew that Amy had paid for this, so now, he felt horrendous for wasting her money when he should have been eating from before but at the same time, he couldn't feel a thing for her. He just didn't care anymore. Jayden had called him every insult under the moon, and she'd done nothing about it despite her knowing that his parents would have stopped Jayden from tongue-lashing at Blaine if they could.

Blaine had found himself shoving everything that Kurt would disapprove of. Chips, following pizza, a brownie and a chocolate chip biscuit. The canteen food wasn't abhorrent and knowing with this hunger that was suddenly building up in the core of his stomach at the sight of food, at the smell of it – that he honestly would not care how it tasted like as long as it was food. He and Kurt sat down and Kurt watched him demolish all of what was on his plate in minutes.

Kurt had blinked repeatedly, as if trying to process the fact that Blaine had honestly eaten all of that without gagging – the only talent he seemed to have at that current moment. He swore that the bloat that was in his stomach was horrifically unimaginable, and his stomach was stretched out to disturbing limits. He felt as if he'd eaten the whole world's supply worth of salt. He was disgusted at himself, yet at the same time, he wanted nothing more than to get up and eat more. He also wanted to starve himself simultaneously, and had been wanting so with every morsel he had.

He was torn to pieces, as he sipped away his frustrations. His hunger was gnawing at him, but he told himself that he had no money, and he could not be caught stealing for God's sake, and for God's sake, he must attain to that at least. He'd already done so much to destroy, to hurt, that he did not need another sin accumulating on his never-ending pile of sins. He'd heard before from a priest that allowing one sin into your life was simply allowing your life to unravel, bit by bit, sins accumulate into a heart that was once white and pure. Now, Blaine's heart was not white, nor pure. It was dark, and black, bottomless in its essence and existence.

Nothing can feed his hunger, his hunger for _sin_.

A few days later, it was the same thing, and now, he found himself professing his sin to the porcelain God. His fingers scraped against his throat, and the ache in his throat. The burning ache in his throat that was leaving him shakily. He did not eat most of the week, but when he did, it was because Kurt was inviting him, and he'd always eaten the most. That dinner that he found himself scratching his throat in was one he'd had after eight-one hours of no food. He was pushing his body to an absurd limit he realised. He loathed how his senses seemed to sharpen, and his mind seemed to finally form coherent thoughts within minutes of ingesting a certain percentage of food. He enjoyed being ill in a way that he couldn't understand. He loathed that all of the negative symptoms he'd been experienced the past few days – dizziness when standing up, stomach aches from horrific hunger pangs, and being unable to tolerate cold temperatures.

He'd eaten off so much - Kurt was literally shocked at the amount that did stomach. Even at a gathering where overeating was inevitable, this was not the normal. Blaine had thought that not eating for a while would make eating very uncomfortable, but it seemed as if the minute that food was introduced into his mouth, he seemed to gobble it all down – especially if Kurt was the one paying for it. With Sebastian, the brunette was not as food-orientated, although he seemed to be the only one that noticed any chance in Blaine's weight, so Blaine didn't eat at all when they were around except for the times that Sebastian remembered that he had not offered Blaine a muffin in a while but that had become a rare occurrence.

Blaine had noticed the cycle he was trapped in. If not for the fact that he only went to these dinners once or twice a week, he would have had an insanely fluctuating weight for quite some time now. He didn't know how much he weighed, but he can guess that it wasn't as much as he thought it was – he thought he weighed as much as the size of an elephant and was afraid to weigh in just for that confirmation. He scraped up the food that was in his stomach against the porcelain bowl, and stopped when he saw nothing more than stomach acid. His stomach was in pain. He loathed not eating after purging, because the hunger pangs were unimaginable.

That was what he got for being so stupid. He'd be living on whatever he can fend off in his car. The few bottles of water that he'd taken from Kurt's fridge whenever he was in the room. Kurt was always eating it seemed, but rarely ever offered because Kurt was one that lived by the philosophy that if Blaine wanted something, he would have asked for something to eat. He made coffee most days, and sat beside Kurt with shaky hands. Even then was his liquid consumption low. His food consumption was non-existent for most of the week, but outraging for that day or so that Kurt had asked him to go out for them to eat.

The binging and purging had left him into a mindset of fasting, and fasting made him overexercise simply because overexercising took every edge off his appetite.

After his binge with Kurt, he'd spent most of his times with Sebastian and Sebastian never quite mentioned food. He was more cautious about being in Sebastian's room now, not for the fact that it was a sinful thing – being in _Sebastian's_ room (yes, yes, it was, and he didn't even care anymore like the disgusting sinner that he was) – but for the fact that he wanted to weigh-in and at the same time, wanted to go around Sebastian's suspicion. On a Friday, he weighed in at 143.2, which made him want to scream. He had no self-strain or control.

He had to stop this. It obviously didn't matter how long he went without eating if he was putting the weight back on when he did eat. His heart was twisting in his chest, and he wasn't doing it for the right reasons. The only good reasons to fast was to get closer to God, and he was doing it simply because he wanted to lose a bit of tub on his tummy. It was disgusting; to see how fast he'd fallen into the pits of his own bulimic mindset from before. Bulimic no more, he told himself, simply because bulimia was taking a toll on his body, frame and mind. He swore to himself that if he did not stop binging and purging ever so often that he was going to tell Sebastian about it. He knew that he can restrict, not for too long before the binging overtook, but he'd decided that tomorrow was a day where he would eat less and that was what a day it would be.

Now, that he'd got his eating settled, he thought of Stephen.

He opened up his sketchbook again, and drew. He drew Kurt, and then drew Stephen. Somehow, along the lines, he was trying to emulate memories. He spent hours distracted by the curves his fingers can make, the shading, the softness in the drawings. He found himself immersed in that realm again, the scent of the paper between his fingers and just the feel of the pencil against his skin. It was almost like second nature – no, it was second nature. It was beautiful in ways that most people did not understand, and he hoped nobody ever would.

He purged himself through ink and paper and then he cried as he felt it all rushing back to him. Every waking feeling of that night – surely, it had to be real. Surely, Stephen had to be dead, and surely, he was holding onto false hope. That encounter he had with that boy, though only lasted a short few seconds, challenged his idea of a dead Stephen and him coming to the realisation that he probably was dead was leaving him restless and unhappy – almost as if he had to watch him die all over again.

The next few days were spent with him doing little else but going to school, drawing and he was eating – though had relapsed into a pattern of only eating during school days and going to others' houses in the weekend to eat something for dinner. He still starved, but had not quite fell into the binge and purge trap yet again. For one, his mind was dull, and he was brought back into the place he was years ago during the depression. He didn't even want to eat. The thoughts were there and they lingered, but his hunger had subsided, and he lacked cravings.

All he found himself wanting to do was sleep. His hunger late at night meant nothing to him anymore. It was not as important as thinking about sleep, and what lingered for him in the world of sleep. The world looked dull. Kurt, his source of comfort, looked to be dull. Blaine suddenly was aware how irrational his thinking was towards Kurt – that Kurt was distant because of him. That Kurt didn't want to be near him. He felt the guilt following him around, intensified more than ever. He didn't think about it all the time, but sometimes, he'd be attacked by this sudden wave of helplessness and guilt that left him feeling sick.

He remembered after Sadie Hawkins, how things seemed to blur and the world looked duller. He remembered waking up in the morning, staying awake for the first ten minutes and then wishing he'd fall asleep again. He remembered only eating properly when his Mother told him too. Dinner was the only meal that he consumed regularly properly, whilst he spent the rest of the day stomaching toast, omelettes and chocolate – very rarely would anything else slip under his mouth those days. Everything was just...confusing. Now, everything was confusing again, and Blaine didn't know how to feel about that. He didn't know if things were supposed to be so dull and disturbing, or if things were supposed to get under his spine like this.

He didn't understand why it was coming back right now. His parents had died some time ago. Stephen had died a long time ago, and it had been months but he was slipping back into his state of true depression – something that he had no control over. He remembered his Mother telling him to take his pills, and him crying and screaming because he didn't feel like he deserved the help, that he deserved the pain because of what he did to Stephen. Whenever Stephen was mentioned at those days, the house somehow slid into some sort of standstill silence – as if it was a topic that nobody was allowed to discuss, something that was not okay to think about.

Next time he weighed in, he was at 138.2, this was the lowest he'd weighed in so long, and the other time he weighed in, he was at 139.5. There was panic about gaining, but no emotion next to losing. He couldn't care enough to stop himself from eating, but at the same time, he did not eat that much. He ate more than he had during restriction phases, but still, so much less than the average male would consume in a day.

He felt a hand slide on his shoulder, bringing him closer and looked up to see Kurt's eyes. It was one of those moments where Blaine was aware of his height, but only because he had to look up. It was one of those moments where he felt like he had to stand on his toes just to see the beauty clearly. Kurt had offered a croissant. Blaine hadn't eaten breakfast, and nodded his head. He buttered his croissant and drank tea that morning instead of his usual coffee.

"There's something different about you," Kurt chose to state, murmuring under the breath. "You look tired."

Blaine shrugged, and chose not to respond to that. "I guess."

Kurt had his NYADA application on the table. He kept on writing it, crumbling it up and then starting to rewrite it again. Blaine didn't want to think about how many times he'd printed that application. Kurt seemed to have wanted to ask a question beforehand, but it somehow slipped his mind when he saw the application.

Blaine's hand slipped into his sketchbook, and he found himself opening a new page. Kurt's concentration levels were amazing when he was concentrating on his application and Blaine found himself senselessly drawing every curve of Kurt's frame, every bit of embodiment that lay before him, the skin, salt, and those eyes. He'd never quite drawn a person as intimately as he did then, and never with them in the same room as him. Blaine was self-conscious when it came to his drawings per say.

Blaine found himself looking up after finishing off Kurt's cheek to look at Kurt and noticed that the brunette was not there. Blaine suddenly was aware of the figure looming over his shoulder, and Blaine looked up. Hazel eyes meeting Kurt's face, that were filled with shock. "I never knew that you can draw, much less that you can draw like _that_."

Blaine's lips softly formed a smile. "Like what?"

The words fell out of Kurt's lips like it was a prophecy that most people could not quite understand. "Like this is the only thing you're good at."

Blaine honestly felt like it was the only thing he was good at. Kurt's hand had drifted towards the sketchbook, and he flipped the page. It was another picture of Kurt and the thought of that made the brunette smile. He turned the page and then his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Blaine knew what page his eyes had landed on.

"You're drawing Sebastian?"

Blaine shrugged, and then smiled weakly. "It doesn't mean anything, Kurt," but the brunette seemed angry at him and Blaine's stomach sloshed, reminding him how wrong it was that he was thinking of Sebastian when he drew. Kurt had shut the sketchbook and Blaine found himself grabbing it before shoving it into his bag and looking at Kurt to ask him for a bit of money so he can buy more coffee.

Kurt was a bit colder when giving up the needed money for him to be able to buy a cup of coffee. Blaine had gone to the line with hope of getting a good, warm cup of coffee before his eyes suddenly was met with the stranger that stood beside him. Blaine's heart was thudding. That blonde hair, dishevelled in that way, that height, that frame...his heart was beating quickly.

Then he heard him speak, and Blaine knew that either he was hallucinating, seeing ghosts or there was another explanation to it that made actual sense.

The boy before him turned around, and looked as if he just vaguely recognised Blaine. Blaine's jaw dropped, his eyes glittering under the light. His face trying to take into those features that had haunted him for so long—a look of confusion rested on the blonde's face, but it was not just a 'look of confusion'. It was his look of confusion. It only validated what Blaine believed to be true.

"..._Stephen_?" Blaine called out, choking very softly. "Stephen Eli Blake?"

A face of recognition replaced Stephen's face, and the blonde raised an eyebrow. "_Blaine_?" he realised, shaking his head. "Blaine Devon Anderson?"

And that was when things started to blur even more.

* * *

_yes. i am leaving you off with the biggest cliffhanger known to mankind. now, let's just hope i upload the next chapter next week or so. i'm just hoping. it's so much to writeeeeeeeeee._

_xo Peanut Butter/Sam_


End file.
